


A Hunter's Legacy

by Mangacat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fae, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Wild Hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangacat/pseuds/Mangacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The  apocalypse has come and gone, and the Winchesters are following the  trodden paths: saving people, hunting things, the family business. When a  call from the past serves them a new case, they have no idea how  much it’s going to be the family’s business. And as the brothers  discover just how wild this hunt is going to be, there might be a new  destiny in the making.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is from my first - and the only one I participated in as a writer actually - spn_j2_bigbang I ever participated in. It was first posted in 2010 and is an AU canon divergence from after S05x04 'The End'. I'd like to thank [**insane_songbird**](http://insane-songbird.livejournal.com/) for the cheering, my original artist [**misshapenmuse**](http://misshapenmuse.livejournal.com/) for the effort and my pinch-hitter artist [**wave_obscura**](http://wave-obscura.livejournal.com/) whose vibrant and gorgeous art you can see within the story for stepping up to the plate, as well as [**candygramme**](http://candygramme.livejournal.com/) for the beta job, as always.

 

 

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=33kcajn)

[Art Masterpost on LJ](http://wave-obscura.livejournal.com/46200.html)

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/mangacat201/pic/0000td1r/)

 

_It seems pretty stupid to start this out with the words ‘dear diary’ considering the circumstances, which is why I’m just not going to do it. There will be no headline here, just words pouring out whenever they need to. They say a lot of hunters keep a journal of some sort, since in this line of work the memory is the first to go._

_I haven’t seen much of the life yet, but I doubt they’re wrong. Growing up on the other side of things really puts everything into perspective. It is strange that of all the feelings I should probably have in a situation like this – fear, terror, anguish, longing for my home, and the safety it ensured – there is only one thing that occupies my mind. If I want to get back at them for it, for destroying the innocence of my childhood, and the knowledge that monsters aren’t real, I'd better grow up damn fast._

_There isn’t much more time, they’re coming for me._

_I will hunt._

 


	2. Chapter 2

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/mangacat201/pic/00011x8g/)

 

A phone rang with annoying persistence, for the first time in what might have been months, and a hand lashed out from under a heap of blankets and knocked it down from the hardwood nightstand onto the floor with one flailing swipe. Unfortunately, it landed with a clang but didn’t stop ringing, which made it necessary for the hand to emerge again, alongside a head full of ruffled, light-brown hair and bleary green eyes that darted around to identify the cell as a blurry, dark blob on the floor. Long calloused fingers picked up the phone and flipped it open to take the call. Meanwhile the heap on the bed on the other side of the nightstand moved slowly, and the blankets fell away to reveal another mop of hair atop a disgruntled face.

When Dean answered the phone it was with a non-descript: “Yeeeeeeeeeeahh?”

He listened for a moment and then snorted out a light greeting: “Hey there, how are you?”

After a few more seconds of listening, he sat up in bed like a jack-knife – wide awake and talking urgently.

“What? Really? When did that…? Wait, slow down and tell me what happened… did you call the police? ... Yes, yes of course, I understand… uhuh… And you think it might… alright, you know what, we’re between jobs anyway, we’re going to drive down to your place right away… No, please, it’s the least… yes, I… yes it’s going to take a couple of days tops… alright, see you soon then.”

He snapped the phone shut and looked over at his brother, who had disentangled himself from his blankets as well. Dean’s face showed a grimace of urgent worry, and it made Sam rub his hand against his temple in dread of what kind of bad news his brother had just received to sent them barging out without so much as a moment’s notice.

“Who was that?”

Dean tapped the phone against his lips for a moment and then let his hand drop as he told Sam the news.

“Lisa Braeden, you remember her? The, the thing with the changelings a few years back?”

Sam nodded and continued to look at his brother with that little vertical line forming between his brows. “Something happened?”

“Ben’s missing, has been for some weeks, and the police have nothing. Lisa thinks they might be looking in all the wrong places.”

Sam took in the pinched look on his brother’s face, and the tense line of his shoulders, and he knew instantly how much this case would get to Dean. This one was even more personal for them than usual. Children being kidnapped by sick bastards happened all the time, but at least the police stood a small chance of catching them if the perpetrators were human. But the supernatural abductees just vanished - literally into thin air - leaving nothing to go on, and no chance of ever finding those kids again. It would be much worse since they had actually managed to save Ben from the supernatural once already. What were the odds of doing it again and getting off as lightly as the first time around?

 

There had, of course, been people they couldn’t save and close friends too, but Dean would take it rough if they found this boy dead or worse, and Sam was worried about what his brother would do in the wake of such an event. While his brain had been running facts and theories, his body had already gone through the motions of packing and getting ready to leave this motel room behind in the next ten minutes. Dean slid the knife out from under his pillow and sheathed it carefully before packing it into the duffle bag that held all his essential possessions. He threw on a pair of jeans that looked vaguely respectable and a lot of layers to protect his skin from the cold that had instantly seeped into it as soon as he’d thrown of the bedding. The older man walked into the bathroom to wash up for a moment, and Sam put the rest of his items into the bag, closing the zip with an audible sound, then he addressed his brother.

“Dean,” His brother leaned around the doorjamb of the bathroom, his toothbrush and a lot of foam around his mouth and looked at him with raised eyebrows, “did she say anything more about the circumstances of the boy vanishing?”

Dean shook his head slowly and then plodded back into the bathroom to spit and rinse before he answered: “The police are on it, but since I told her we were coming I didn’t think wasting time trying to get into all that over the phone would do any good. We really need to drive fast though; I have a bad feeling about this one.”

Sam nodded and wondered how the boy had gotten himself in such a situation again. It wasn’t as if being kidnapped and exchanged for a fairy child wasn’t enough of a brush with the supernatural for one lifetime. Wordlessly, he followed Dean out to the car and got in.

 

Dean’s shoulders didn’t relax one bit on the entire way to Cicero, Indiana, and it didn’t help that they spend most of their time on dusty side-roads with no company, but the familiar rumble of the car, and Dean’s apocalypse-mix that he couldn’t let go of, for the sheer joy of the thing being over, and them being still alive and mostly whole. It wasn’t something they actually talked about or even really addressed in their thoughts. The patented Winchester-way of coping was up and running though another year with full efficiency and for once they were both perfectly okay with it. This thing about Ben had hit a bit too close to home for them to appreciate it as a perfect distraction, but it was a distraction nonetheless, and the more energy they needed to put into the investigation, the better anyway. Sam looked out of the window at the smoldering heat rising from the landscape around them, shimmering in the air, no disturbance beside the steady movement of the car.

They had silently agreed to take turns at the wheel and rest as much as possible when it wasn’t their turn, and they'd only stopped for a scant four hours of shut-eye in a by-the-hour motel they'd passed, because time was of essence here. Instead of late in the evening, they arrived in Cicero mid-afternoon after one and a half days of hard driving. At least the exhaustion seeping into their bones kept them from appearing too tense as they rolled into the familiar suburban area to seek out Lisa’s nice little house. When the Impala rumbled into the street and stopped alongside the weed studded front lawn, the door of the house opened at once. The attractive young mother had obviously kept watch out for the sound of the car and anticipated their arrival. Dean cut off the motor and gripped the wheel a bit tighter for a moment, taking a deep breath before he opened the door and got out of the car. Sam listened to the ticking of the cooling engine for a couple of seconds before following his brother out and up the few steps that brought them to Lisa’s door.

The young woman looked distraught, but her appearance was as groomed and impeccable as they’d come to expect from her. Her eyes, though, looked haunted, and deep shadows lurking under the careful make-up showed that there was only façade and nothing more to her well-kept appearance. She opened the door wider to admit them into the house but closed and locked it instantly after her. Lisa turned around to face them, back pressed against the door as if she had to keep it shut against an onslaught from something invisible, but she relaxed after a moment and showed them into the living room. They had sat in countless victims’ living rooms trying to piece information and stories together for their hunts, but there weren't many people or rooms they’d ever see again. And most of the time they were quite glad that was the case, since it meant those people would never face anything in their line of work again. Even of the people they actually knew, or who had been referred to them through their father’s contacts, few ever received them under their actual names, or in such a personal matter.

 

Sam and Dean sat down on the couch while Lisa seated herself in the single chair. She drew her legs up sideways to hug them between her clasped hands, but it was the only sign that she was seeking comfort, since the apparently detached indifference on her face matched the prim cleanliness of the room.. Dean observed her carefully and noted that the dark, long hair had given way to a stylish bob with a slight earthy red tint, and a few new lines had molded her features into a kind of entrancing maturity. He blinked against his treasured dream image for a moment and fought to concentrate on the case at hand instead of getting hung-up on might-have-beens that brought more pain than closure.

“I’m really glad that you came, and on such short notice too… can I get you anything?”

Both brothers declined with a silent shake of the head, too wired in anticipation of the whole story behind the boy’s disappearance to have it held up with hospitality. Sam leaned forward with his elbows on his knees to be able to catch Lisa’s eyes and encouraged her to talk about what had happened.

“We’re fine. Why don’t you just tell us what happened, and why you think this is something we can help with?”

She nodded and took a deep breath before speaking, eyes trained onto her clasped fingers.

“It was two months ago, almost exactly to the day now, and a few days after Ben’s eleventh birthday. I brought him to school in the morning and went to work afterwards, there was nothing amiss, but… when I came by in the afternoon to pick him up from school, they said he’d left already. I mean, I’ve let him walk home from school from time to time with friends when I had a late meeting and couldn’t make it, but it was always arranged in advance, and he’d stay at one of his friends’ places, until I could come by and pick him up from there. He wasn’t supposed to leave alone that day, and, after calling around at all of his friends’ houses, their parents only told me that they hadn’t seen him, and that all their children where all right and safely at home.”

A little wetness gathered in the corner of her eyes, and a small hitch in her breath announced upcoming tears, but the brothers waited patiently, until she had found her composure again, even though Sam had to grab Dean’s elbow from behind to quell the harsh words rising in his brother’s throat.

“I got frantic then and went back to his school to round up all the teachers, but nobody had seen Ben leaving, exactly, and they just kept telling me about how he had walked out of the classroom after the last period and… I called the police then and drove to and fro around the neighbourhood to see if he was fooling around, though he knows that he’s not supposed to just walk around on his own. The police sent a patrol car or two around for the afternoon, which of course wasn’t effective in the least. I didn’t want to believe that something had happened then, you know? It… it was easier to accept that he’d just taken the afternoon off and would come back soon.”

She looked out of the window down to the patio and the back garden where the party had taken place all those years ago.

“When he didn’t come home that night and didn’t turn up in the morning either, the police upped the search party, and when he'd been officially missing for 24 hours, they did a full scale search, with the neighbourhood involved. My phone got rigged in case there was a ransom demand – though what kind of ransom anybody would want with what I have here is beyond me – and… they did everything from flyers, the newspaper, to dogs, it was… it was crazy. But we heard nothing, nobody called about money or anything, and although they began searching in the woods around town, too, they didn’t even find his backpack or clothing or, or anything…”

Lisa covered her eyes with her hands for a moment and then raked them through her hair, tousling the strands with her frantic fingers. Sam let Dean get up this time, and the older man moved over to the distraught woman, picking up her hands and cradling them in his own while he crouched next to the armchair.

“It’s ok, go on.”

“Well, it’s just… they say the first forty-eight hours or so are crucial, and when they didn’t find him it was like… someone pulled the rug from under my feet you know? I mean, they were all very supportive, the whole neighbourhood was with me, volunteering and everything. But after a few weeks the efforts started to dwindle, and I was just… I wasn’t ready to let life go on. In those first couple of weeks I didn’t have time to think, but when it got quiet, I remembered. I mean, I hadn’t… children get taken by normal… you know, but he just vanished, like into thin air. I tried to call you several times, but you didn’t pick up, and I wasn’t going to try again, but then I actually got you, and… suddenly I was so sure. I don’t know.”

Sam nodded slowly turning the facts over in his head. He could see that Lisa was barely keeping it together, and even though she’d rather not have anything to do with the kinds of things they worked on, she was grasping at last straws. Nevertheless he had heard this kind of story often enough to trust her mother instinct and found it worth investigating.

“We had a… big thing going down that put us out of commission for some time. But I think there’s no harm done in trying to find something from our angle. What about the other children?”

The dark haired woman looked at Sam blankly.

“You know the other children that were involved in the… incident a couple of years ago? Did they disappear too?”

Lisa looked from one man to the other and frowned in confusion, until her eyes widened with realization.

“I… I don’t know. I didn’t even think to ask,” she balled her fists in helpless frustration, “I know a couple of them moved away after the… you know, but they’re mostly still here I think, I… I haven’t heard from other missing children in the paper or…, but I didn’t think about that.”

“It’s ok, really, Lisa, it’s not your job to think of these things, it’s ours. We’ll try and track down all the families and see if they’ve had anything unusual going on lately, alright? It’s not much to go on, but I’m sure the police already covered most of the investigative angles except for this one. And even if we find out that nothing happened to the other children, we’ll at least know that it’s not tied to them. But we’ll do anything we can to find out what's happened to Ben, and we’ll do whatever is necessary to bring him back, ok?”

Now the tears flowed freely from her eyes, and Dean squeezed her hands gently while she sobbed under her breath.

 

Sam and Dean reluctantly set up shop in Lisa’s living room. They’d have preferred to hole up in a motel first and operate from there, but the woman pleaded with them to stay in her guest room, most likely because she wanted to keep close tabs on anything they might find out. They told the worried mother to at least go to work and keep her appointments, so she might not find herself out of a job when all this was over. Since Dean was rather well known about the neighbourhood due to his spectacular appearance at the party a couple of years back, and the subsequent gossip that had travelled around in his wake, they decided it would be too suspicious if he went around the neighbourhood asking questions. So, they switched roles, and Sam did the legwork on the families that still lived in the vicinity, while Dean checked up on the children that had moved away. Most of them hadn’t strayed further than a couple of hours drive from Cicero, manageable in one day, which is why the brothers decided to check up personally on them even though the preliminary calls hadn’t raised any flags immediately.

It took an additional day, but since the trail had long gone cold on the immediate search, and they didn’t have any other leads to check out yet, they thought it prudent to make sure the kids were all right and hadn’t been exchanged for something nasty again. When all the families turned out to be in possession of their own healthy, completely natural children, they decided to waive the one family that had actually moved out of state, and took care of that with only a phone call. None of the families involved in the original case had had a brush with something supernatural since, so they were sure that it didn’t have anything to do with the changeling infestation the town had suffered. They were loath to tell Lisa that their only solid lead hadn’t panned out, but Sam had worked up a few theories by then, all of which were really unpleasant to think about, since they contained a list of possible supernatural perpetrators that looked like the A-Z of nastiness.

The hunters were very reluctant to share the list with Lisa and tried to rule most of the creatures out, before they compiled a short-list of the more likely suspects. Dean even decided to look into the human crime angle after a couple more days of fruitless research with no more hints coming up, but the police had done a good job there, even if they hadn’t been able to turn anything up. When they were down to trying to determine whether a Rakshasa might have set up shop in the area, or possibly a rawhead, Dean started pacing like a caged tiger, which in turn made Sam irritable and antsy. Given that both creatures were in the habit of eating children for breakfast, lunch and dinner, Lisa avoided both of the brothers purposefully, though she told them often enough how much she appreciated their efforts.

 

“This is getting us nowhere, Dean.”

Sam watched his brother whip around and advance on him with a predator-like glare.

“Don’t you think I know that? We’ve investigated every possible badass from here to Timbuktu. And other than ‘we can’t tell for sure’ there is nothing. I know we’re not getting anywhere fast, but it’s not like there’s something else we can do.”

Dean turned around and stared out of the window as if he could will the boy to stumble into the back yard just like that. Sometimes Sam wondered if his brother might just be capable of such a thing if he put enough of his stubborn head into it. While that would make a lot of their hunts a lot easier, he didn’t think he wanted to encourage Dean though. Things like this came with a price tag that was too high to pay once let alone twice. On the other hand, Dean’s stubbornness would be a big hurdle for what he was going to suggest next.

“You know that’s not true, Dean.”

The taller man caught his brother’s eye, working his way into his peripheral vision even though Dean was pretending not to look at him. Sam knew that the other man was well aware of what – or rather whom – he was referring to.

“We can’t, Sam.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t keep asking for favours for myself, Sam. He’s given so much already…”

“That’s bullshit. You know he’ll do it, no matter for whom you ask, especially since it’s just that… personal. And out there is a kid that could have been yours if you’d just… is that not a good-enough reason to ask? Seriously, Dean if we have any shot at finding Ben, it’s our duty to try it. It’s just a call and a question.”

Dean opened his mouth to retaliate something, but he stopped short at the sight of something behind Sam’s back. Sam turned around and saw Lisa standing in the doorway, half hidden by the wooden panels of the sliding door. She watched them with slightly wet, resigned eyes before speaking:

“I know you’ve put a lot of effort into this, but I think it’s all you can do. I’m… just tired. I know I can’t ever give up looking… looking out for… but I can’t keep you any longer, I’m sure there are cases that are a lot more promising, right? Mother’s lose their children every day, don’t they?”

Tears coursed down her cheeks, and that made Dean hasten over to her, enveloping her trembling frame in his strong arms.

“They might, but I’m not going just stand there and let it happen to you and Ben. Sam is right, I should have gotten over myself already.”

“Lisa, we have a friend, who’s… well, he has his ways to find people, ways that reach beyond what we can manage with our means. If we ask him we’ll need a bit of time to drive to Illinois, and something of Ben’s personal things, his favourite toy maybe, something he spent a lot of time with.”

She looked between them and frowned a bit.

“Are you talking about someone like those psychics that do readings for the police and find missing persons? Because that’s…” she caught herself, thinking for a moment, “never mind.”

Dean chuckled under his breath, and a small smile tugged his lips; the first in weeks maybe.

“No, we were thinking more along the lines of some heavenly assistance…”

The young woman looked at him with big eyes.

“Are you serious? How…”

“Trust me, THAT you really don’t want to know. Are you ready to take this chance?”

Lisa searched Dean’s face for a moment, and what she found there seemed to satisfy her.

“I… yes. You can have whatever you need. I’m… I can’t begin to thank you, you know that right?”

“You’ve told me about a dozen times, and my answer is the same, seriously now. We’ll be doing everything in our power to bring your son back safe as can be, all right? I’ll make that call and see what he says, but I’m sure he’ll be prepared to help, ok?”

When she nodded, Dean let go of her and flipped his cell open. He dialled and then walked out on the back porch, his greeting “Hey there Amelia, is your husband home…?” He drifted through the door, and it slammed shut behind him.

 

Lisa looked at Sam with tired eyes and turned away to walk into the kitchen. She beckoned him with a slight wave of her hand, and he followed her into the next room where she busied herself setting up coffee. When the coffee maker had begun gurgled along merrily, the woman turned around to face him again with a wary expression on her face.

“I can’t believe I’m asking myself whether it’s worth it. I mean, I’m a bad mother for it, right, to just… I don’t know, accept it? Give up? No, not give up, never that, but getting myself used to the thought that I might not ever see my son again.”

Sam looked out of the window where he could see his brother talking on the phone, then back at her.

“I don’t think you are. It’s been months, and nobody can run at full tilt forever, not even for a missing child. Hope is exhausting, you know? Even more so than resignation and guilt, I know, I’ve seen it often enough, clung to it like nothing else mattered. I know that losing someone you love, possibly never to see them again on this plane or even the next is the worst thing that can happen to anyone. And when it happens, it's like the whole world is ripped to shreds in front of your eyes, and there’s nothing you can do about it. But at some point, you just need to shut it out for a little while, not let it get to you, because you’re expected to function in real life just as if nothing had happened, and you realize the world goes on for everyone else, even though it feels like it shouldn’t. It’s a terrible thing, letting go of something you feel you can’t live without, but sometimes it’s needed, so you can get the right kind of distance that just might lead you back to it.”

She bowed her head so that her short hair obscured her face, hands perched on the counter behind her.

“You’ve been so strong, Lisa, you’ve done everything you could and kept your head in the game all along, so that Ben has a home to _return_ to. Don’t ever think you’d be a bad mother for that, it’s the most difficult task of all, measuring hope against life.”

She wiped at her eyes with a finger, slightly smudging the mascara around her eyes, but didn’t cry again. After a moment, and a deep breath, she looked up at him.

“Thanks, Sam, I mean it, for this… you’re good at putting things in perspective you know? But it sounds an awful lot like you speak from experience.”

Sam huffed a small sigh and looked out of the window again at his brother’s turned back. As if he’d felt the eyes on him, Dean turned and met Sam’s gaze with a small frown for a moment, before he concentrated on his phone call again. The tall man met Lisa’s eyes again.

“I do.”

She looked from him to the window and back with a puzzled expression. Then her eyes widened slightly when she got the implication of what he had said.

“You… how, I mean…”

“It’s too complicated to explain, really, and we’re glad to have put it behind us.”

She took his cue at not wanting to talk about it and nodded slowly.

“I’m going to check in with my brother if you don’t mind, I expect we’ll be leaving soon if everything turns out well.”

He took a little wave of her hand as a dismissal and strode out to the back-door.

 

Dean waited patiently for the woman on the other end of the line to fetch her husband. It was still a bit strange for him to think of Cas like that, but after the apocalypse, the angel had decided to make amends with his host’s family. Dean wasn’t exactly sure how things stood with Jimmy’s soul, after his body had been blown up by an archangel and put together again, but apparently Cas did at least a good impression of a real if slightly holy tax accountant and family man. He hadn’t pried into what kind of relationship he had with his ‘wife’ or their daughter, and Dean wasn’t really all that keen to know either, but at least he had a social security number, and a purpose, since he’d been cut off from the heavenly host for his dealings with the Winchesters. From what Dean had gained from their sporadic phone calls, he sounded content if not happy to embrace human life with the innate curiosity that had gotten him into so much trouble in the first place. Dean hoped that his friend would be able to make a life for himself as well as possible under the circumstances, and he hated to disrupt it to ask such a favor. Nonetheless, he couldn’t deny that he’d also thought about it in the last couple of days, and that he’d been waiting for Sam to bring it up, so he could blame his brother for the idea.

“What can I do for you, Dean?”

The familiar voice startled him out of his thoughts abruptly and he filled the gap immediately with false cheer and a jibe.

“Hey, buddy o’ mine, what makes you think I want something? This could be a mere social call, you know?”

He practically heard the smile at the other end of the line.

“It could be, Dean, but your anxiety palpitates through the phone like it’s got its own voice. I still know some tricks, you know?”

Dean chuckled slightly to himself for being caught out trying to fool the angel, before he turned serious again.

“Listen, someone we know well is in trouble, her son is missing, and we've tried all the usual ways to find him. I’m grasping straws here, and you know I wouldn’t call you if I didn’t think there was no other way to find something.”

“Alright, where are you? I’m going to come by immediately.”

“No, no… that’s not… it’s not necessary. You know I don’t want you to come flying every time I call on you.”

“Dean…”

“No, look, we’re in Indiana, it’s like a three-hours-something drive. We’ll come over, alright? If we leave now we should be there just after nightfall.”

He heard the angel sigh on the other end of the line, but agree to his terms.

“Don’t forget to bring something of his, some personal affect, a most recent one if possible.”

Dean said good-bye and ended the call just as Sam stepped through the door.

“Are we going?”

“Yes, we’re driving down immediately, get your stuff together.”

Sam nodded and returned into the house to pack.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/mangacat201/pic/0000yq5q/)

The familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine lulled them into a semblance of comfort, but the mood in the car was subdued. Dean only had the music on low, as if to simulate normality, but his eyes were trained on the road in a way that made sure it was impossible to start conversation without actually snapping fingers in front of his face. Sam didn’t really have the urge to talk either though, so the silence in the car was more comfortable than awkward.  
  
He knew that his brother was still mad about the last resort option they had to pull on this and tense about finding out the boy’s fate for the better or worse. Sam thought of Lisa, left all alone now in her empty house with nothing but a little shred of hope left in her to balance the big load of helplessness weighing her down. He had not lied to her when he told her she was strong for going on the way she had, but he dreaded that they would have to bring her bad news by the end of this day. Sam knew it was one of the reasons Dean had put off involving the angel. Chances were, whatever Castiel could find out wouldn’t bode well, but they had to at least try, even if there was nothing else to be done but bring the boy’s mother the closure she deserved.

Thankfully it wasn’t that much of a stretch from Indiana to Illinois, even if their way led them to the opposite corner of the state. Dean drove with a grim determination on the empty highway, encountering other cars only occasionally. They noticed in passing how the wind picked up when they crossed the state border, disturbing the smoldering air, but since the sky was free of clouds save for a few harmless white wisps, they didn’t bother worrying about a storm. The brothers drove in silence, not much to talk about until they arrived at their destination, and they had long since abandoned the human habit of filling silences with empty chatter. For once though, Dean didn’t have the music blasting from the speakers at top volume, but kept it quiet, more a background noise than anything entertaining; a soundtrack of their life.  
  
They were just headed down another empty stretch of back road that didn’t seem out of the ordinary when suddenly something changed. Nightfall wasn’t far away, and the sky had already begun to color in the beautiful spectrum of dusk with its mauve, purple and lavender. The sinking sun was a red ball of fire flaming on the western horizon almost straight ahead of them. There had been nothing around them but a few birds perching on the power-line that ran parallel to the road, and the scorching mid-western heat that had them rolling down the windows soon after they’d left Cicero.

 

Now though, there was Nothing around them. Suddenly there were no birds, no sounds, everything seemed to have stilled save for the wind that roared with an exceptional force now. The atmosphere felt electrically charged, and the temperature had dropped a noticeable few degrees in the matter of seconds. The brothers tensed up simultaneously, but Dean voiced what they were both thinking.

“What the fuck?”

He didn’t get any more words out though, since just a moment later lightning crashed out of the open sky and down onto the road directly in front of them, and it was all he could do to hit the brakes full on and pull the car to a swerving stop diagonally in the middle of the road. Roaring thunder followed the lightening strikes only a fraction of a second later, and they saw that the visible bolts of electricity were closing in from all around them, zeroing on the exact spot where they stood with the car. Dean wanted to jump out and run, but Sam yelled at him to close the window and keep his ass inside the car. He had an instinctive and ingrained trust in his brother. It had been an onerous piece of work getting that trust back after all they’d been through, but now it overrode Dean’s first reaction, and he frantically rolled the window up yelling back at Sam for no better reason than that they were about to be struck by fricking lightening.

His voice was drowned out, however, by the unearthly wall of sound that suddenly surrounded them, and the eerie, whitish-blue glow of a flash up close and personal slid over the roof of the car from behind. The split second before Dean had to close his eyes against the onslaught of light, he could have sworn that the flash of electricity slithered over the hood more like a caress than a crackling deathly line. This was definitely no _ordinary_ kind of lightning by any stretch of the imagination. When he blinked his eyes open again, the flashes had moved on as if the car was nothing more than a piece of the scenery and converged in a spot some twenty feet ahead of them, forming a thin line that went up into the sky.  
  
It stayed stable for a moment and then, for the lack of a better word, bulged outward, until a rip appeared in the very centre. Dean’s ears still rang, but his eyes worked out just fine the way a silhouette emerged from the spot where the rip was steadily growing. It turned into the distinct shape of a horse and a rider leaping through the gap to land with bone-shaking force on the road in front of them, the horse rearing up on its hind-legs at the sight of the car. Against the light at his back it was impossible to make out more than the riders vague outline, but it took only a few seconds for the lightening to die down, leaving only the dusky light of the sinking sun to illuminate the shape of the newcomer.

Before Dean could grasp any more thoughts he was out of the car with his gun trained on the stranger, ignoring his stinging fingers from the slight discharge from the door and the faint smell of burned rubber in the air. He felt more than saw Sam take a similar stance on the other side of the car. Dean blinked a couple of times and realized now that the rider on the prancing horse was a man, who appeared to be wearing some kind of strange medieval get-up, and a helmet that made it impossible to see more than the lower part of his face, and a pair of piercing eyes shadowed behind the slits.

“Freeze and tell me who the fuck you are, right now!”

Dean’s voice rang out loud and clear in the air, and the rider cocked his head for a moment, before he answered:

“Dean? Dean Winchester?”

Dean exchanged a quick look with Sam, who looked just as puzzled but didn’t falter in his stance. His muzzle jerked to follow the rider’s hand, but the fellow just chuckled and loosened the strap of the helmet, to pull it up and over his head slowly before speaking again.

“Now, this is unexpected.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Sam hadn’t been too surprised when the stranger had addressed Dean by his real name, even though they had never encountered him before. They had had enough hassle with a lot of things over the years that knew you even if it appeared you did not know them, because they gave nothing on outward features. What made him wary was the questioning way the rider had said it, as if he wasn’t entirely sure. The world stopped spinning for a moment, when the rider took off the helmet and coaxed the horse nearer to the car, though it didn’t stop prancing nervously back and forth. Without the helmet, the young man’s features were easy to make out and he was a handsome devil; tanned skin and high cheekbones that hinted that their owner was growing out of youthful chubbiness, dark brown, short hair, and a set of mischievous green eyes that had a dangerous lure to them. Sam saw Dean frozen in shock on the other side of the car, so he decided to take this one.

“Do we know you?”

The rider focused on Sam and smiled in a way that seemed to lengthen the shadows and spoke of an intelligent predator. He dismounted and walked closer to the car leaving the horse to throw its head around and prance a few steps away from the vehicle. The young man seemed to be somewhere around twenty, all lean muscle under the old-fashioned tunic he wore, and with a noticeable suggestion of a practiced fighting stance, even though his body was completely relaxed right now, and the helmet was pinned under his arm with quiet confidence. He did a little bow, but the smirk that went with it was obviously sarcastic.

“Benjamin Isaac Braeden, at your service, gentlemen.”

It confirmed Sam’s initial gut feeling, but he was still dumbfounded. Dean on the other side shook off his shock and cocked his gun, aiming for the boy’s head; he took the threat, remaining completely silent and unfazed.

“You are definitely not Ben Braeden, he’s an eleven year old boy, who’s been missing for two months.”

The answer to Dean’s remark came in form of a humourless chuckle, and a few choice words:

“Two months only, huh? Interesting. Time really does fly when you’re having fun”, his tone turned sharp and bitter when he went on, “try spending almost seven years in the deepest parts of Faerie, and see how fast you grow up. It took me this long to find a way out. It's been a damned close call, but it’s nice to know that it's not a new century already. That could just as well have happened; you never know with these things.”

The brother’s eyes widened at the revelation of the involvement of fairies. It put a whole new spin on the stranger’s claims. Dean’s eyes narrowed again though. He had been a hunter long enough to know not to take anything at face value, but since the young man had had plenty of opportunity to attack by now and hadn’t, he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“All right, if you are really Ben like you claim to be, prove it.”

A quiet rustle of chain mail accompanied the guy crossing his arms, betraying his armoured state and telling the brothers that this was getting stranger by the minute.

“And how, pray tell, would I do that?”

Dean pondered the possibilities for a moment and concluded that there was no sure-fire way to prove anything until they got to Cas, but, on the other hand, if this was really Ben, they had to take the chance.

“Tell me something only Ben and I would know.”

His answer was a short derisive laugh. “Seriously?”

“Let’s just say if you pass my test right now, I’m not going to put a couple of rounds into you for good measure, and you’ll be on probation instead.”

“Hmm, doesn’t sound like such a good deal to me, but since this meeting changes a lot of things, and I’m probably going to need your help, fine. On the day after my eighth birthday you sat on a bench beside me and offered to take care of a bully,who had stolen my game. I declined your generous offer, of course. Then you whispered into my ear, ‘To deal with bullies, you ask politely only once. If they don’t give back what’s yours, you take them by the neck with both hands and give them a knee where it hurts most.’ Good advice, but I’ll never forget the scolding my mum gave me after that one.”

Dean looked beyond stunned, so Sam assumed the tale had been spot on. Still, he was prepared to follow his brother’s lead on this one, since Dean was the one who had actually spend time with the boy a couple of years back. Sam knew that this had been less a test about what was actually said, and more about the young man’s willingness to be tested. And he knew that his brother would trust his instincts, because he had developed an uncanny nose for the truth, that couldn’t merely be explained by a lot of experience in the field of reading people and their reactions.

~*~

Dean assessed the young man’s words with internal surprise, since his words didn’t only exactly match what he had said that afternoon, but they rang true, too. He had little doubt left that this guy was telling the truth, and he was indeed Ben Braeden. However he was supposed to tell Lisa that they’d found her son, but that he was now more man than boy was beyond him. This case had been complicated from the very beginning; He supposed that there was no reason why that should change now. Dean saw Sam shift out of the corner of his eye, obviously waiting for the verdict. He had no other choice though, if they were to untangle this mystery, they would have to work Ben’s story out of him, and that meant a minimum of trust. Consequently, he nodded and loosened his stance, putting the gun down on the roof of the car, not letting go, but not keeping his finger on the trigger either. He addressed Sam with verbal confirmation.

“He’s telling the truth.”

His brother would get the meaning of the admission beyond what Ben would gather from it, and that would have to be enough for now. He watched the young man’s shoulders sag a little, but at the same time his body stayed taut and alert, as if he was waiting for something to happen.

“I did, that’s great, can we get on the move now? As much as I appreciate not being held at gunpoint anymore, it’d be better to get out of here as fast as possible.”

Sam held up his hand: “Wait, we might believe you for now, but we need to hear your story first before anyone is going anywhere fast.”

Ben grimaced and turned around peering suspiciously before meeting the tall man’s gaze.

“Look, weaving a spell like that? It leaves a residue that is quite easy to trace for somebody who knows what they’re doing. And believe me, once they notice I’m gone, someone will be very mad, so please, I’d rather be half a state over, before they find the rip here, all right? I’ll get into the car with you, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but on the road.”

Dean nodded at the restive animal that was still moving from side to side behind Ben.

“But what are you going to do with your horse? We can’t very well tie it to the bumper and we sure can’t just let it wander through all the fields here.”

Ben looked over his shoulder and beckoned the horse with a sharp high whistle which it followed reluctantly, bending its neck so it could be scratched behind its ears. It didn’t seem to be wearing any harness at all, yet he handled it like he’d never let go of the reins.

“Oh, don’t worry about Brigid, she can keep up and out of sight, can’t you, girl?”

He got a high neigh for an answer and patted her flank for a moment. Then he turned back and gestured at the car.

“Can we go now?”

With a little disbelief colouring his features, Dean nodded. A short exchange of glances between the brothers had Sam take the back seat, leaving Ben to ride shotgun. When all the doors had sounded closed, Dean turned the ignition and was pleased to find the motor rumble to life instantly, against all odds. He shifted into gear and put the pedal to the metal.

 

Dean stayed silent for a couple of minutes, just driving; he knew his brother had the boy under control if he tried anything. Sam, on the other hand, had put his gun on the back seat beside him and was studying the young man in the front with avid eyes. Ben had exuded solemn confidence before, when they were outside, but in here he looked uneasy and vulnerable, even though he tried not to show it. Even so, his shoulders were rigid, and his fingers rubbed on the leather of the upholstery in an unconscious movement. He took in the interior of the car as if it was something foreign, or long forgotten, and looked outside to spot his horse through the window, the horse that, miraculously, seemed to have no difficulties keeping up with the car, even though it had turned kind of transparent. Sam wondered what kind of breed it was, but he had the feeling it would all be revealed when Ben finally told them about what had happened to him. When the silence in the car lengthened into awkward, his big brother got uncomfortable and snappy almost on the spot.

“Now, tell your tale.”

Ben started for a half a second, until he concealed the reaction and shot a question back.

“Where are we going?”

“Same way we were going when you jumped out of thin air and nearly electrocuted us with the lightning show. Didn’t anybody ever tell you that it’s impolite to answer with a question?”

Ben scoffed and answered with a cynical grin: “Conversational classes were not part of my educational routine, I’m afraid.”

Sam noticed Dean beating Led Zeppelin drum patterns reflexively on the steering wheel, a tell that showed how Dean was reigning in his emotions to keep from blowing up at Lisa’s son for being so cocky and self-assured. But Sam also noticed how Ben caught up on it and looked away quickly. He didn’t ask anymore questions, but started at the beginning instead.

“I was late coming out of school. I’d had to stay behind to have a talk with one of the teachers about a project we had to put together for extra credit. I thought my mum was probably already waiting for me outside so I walked along the corridor, stuffing my books in and not really paying attention to where I was going. I didn’t notice then, but actually I remembered it later… there was this feeling, like when you blink and have the impression that the world skipped a beat for you? I was still in the school’s corridors, or so I thought, but when I stepped outside the doors, I got to know that nothing is necessarily as it seems. They were waiting for me in the yard that was suddenly growing over, like ivy is the new black, and she was there… she told me they’d been keeping an eye on me, and that it was time I came into the fold, I didn’t exactly have a choice about saying no to that, but still, it was different from the first time.”

Dean perked up then: “Wait, are you trying to tell us what I think you are? You’ve been taken by a bunch of fairies, _again?_ ”

Ben gave him a dirty eyeball and laughed bitterly.

“If you really want to see it that way… even though I wouldn’t exactly use the term ‘a bunch of fairies’ for a _Hunt_.”

The word rang through the silence in the car for a moment as if there was an echo somewhere outside and they heard the horse neigh with a shrill tune that made Ben jump and shiver and look impossibly young for a moment, more like the eleven year old he was supposed to be, rather than the image of the young man superimposed on his body and mind.

Dean gripped the steering wheel a lot tighter when the meaning of the word washed over him leaving a cold, steely lump of foreboding in the pit of his stomach. He had an inkling what the boy was talking about, and it would make their lives just this much more difficult in a way that was really not necessary right now. Before he could ask about more information, Sam leaned forwards with his hands on the front seat, beating Dean to it by interposing the most important question.

“What, you mean like the Wild Hunt?”

Ben snorted under his breath and gripped the dashboard with considerable force, eyes trained straight through the windshield and on the road.

“Oh for,… you think there’s only one? The Hunt is not just a band of legendary ghost riders that pick up lost souls along the way on a stormy night like the lore says. What people have told and written about them isn’t even close to what it’s actually like. It’s the clans of the Sidhe, the fey people of the Old World, riding and holding court in the Netherworld. Each one has a different kind of game, and it’s not all about humans by far, since only the strongest Hunts ever make it into this realm, because it’s not an easy feat to have a large number of riders cross over the borders between the worlds. Those are the Hunts led by royalty.”

“And who leads the clan that took you and will come after us by proxy?”

Ben turned slightly and stared at Dean with an intense look for a moment, before he eyed Sam out of the corner of his eyes and answered:

“Freya Huld.”

 

From the way Sam’s hand tightened until the upholstery groaned directly behind him, Dean assumed that he’d heard of the lady before, and that whatever it was, was going to be no good. Splendid, how this case seemed to take a spin from bad to impossibly tricky in just a matter of minutes. He caught Sam’s look out of the corner of his eye.

“You know the chick?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call her that to her face, Dean, but yeah, I know of her. Lore says she’s a Norse goddess, one for the women – fertility of the land and the people, that kind of thing – but also a leader of royal blood of the gods. The aspect of Frouwe Hulda is best known from a fairy tale about the weather, making snow from the duvets and such, but she’s also the protector of lost children.”

Ben nodded and added: “When the Queen goes out to hunt, it’s for the souls of children that cross her path in the stormy nights of the ride. She gathers them, raises them to be warriors and takes them into service once their training is done.”

Dean had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach about what had happened to Ben in the clutches of these creatures that had stolen his childhood from him to train him to be a warrior of the darkest times of the night.

“And how long does this lovely education take?”

Ben looked over morosely. “Seven years.”

“Wait, what? But you said…”

“Yes, exactly. I’ve had to work through almost seven years of battle training for weapons, and politics, and sorcery, until I found a spell that would open a window to the outer world and catch an opportunity that would not require me to vanish out of a full court containing some of the most powerful Fey surrounding me. Now I’ve got just about a month to sever my ties of service to the Lady in every way, before they have me join the Hunt.”

Dean looked over for a moment and processed the fact that not only was Ben all grown up, but that he'd also admitted to being well enough versed in fey-craft that he could put _rips_ into the fabric of reality, as he had very obviously demonstrated right in front of them. He wondered once again how he would be able to keep Lisa from killing him, once a bunch of angry fairies (and he was damn well going to call them that in his head, since they hadn’t proved themselves to be any more than the easy bitch they’d torched some couple of years ago.) hopefully didn’t get the job done. The time frame worried him though, he knew how long Sam had researched to find ways around his deal, and he was under no illusions that getting Ben out of this mess was going to be any easier.

“Ok, but why just a month, I mean, from where I see it, this is going to be complicated. We might need more time to find something and you’ve been with them for seven years already. Couldn’t we buy time by having you go in as a ruse until we find a way to break you out?”

Ben looked at him with a pale face and big eyes, all thoughts of keeping a game face thoroughly dashed, and Dean suspected even before Sam spoke up that he was not going to like what he said.

“Dean! Seriously, it doesn’t work like that, since first of all, to join the Wild Hunt, you have to be _dead_.”

“Oh… right that is… wait, how would you… wait WHAT they’d really…?”

“Yes, they would. It has happened since I was there, it’s a big spectacle and a ceremony, like coming of age if you will. You put down your human life and take the spear and become Fey forever. It’s the way they keep their people alive since there is only about one natural born Sidhe child in a millennium or two. They live forever from our perspective, but they can be killed in battle or accident like any other creature, and they hold grudges, very expertly. So they've found a way to keep their ranks closed; it’s an honor to be chosen for the Hunt.”

Dean snorted derisively and drummed his fingers some more.

“Yeah, right and I guess it’s not one of those where you just politely say ‘no, thank you, I’m not interested’, right? Bastards, the lot of them!”

“Precisely.”

 

Dean tightened his hands around the steering wheel, and he let the seconds tick by for a bit to order his thoughts, even though there was really no question about what they were going to do next.

“So, we go and try to take on a clan of really powerful fairy-people – who I guess have all the fancy little advantages of nasty, old-world witchcraft like the lore says and probably more – and we’ll try to get you fired without getting you dead, us dead, and a whole horde of nasty bitches on our ass for the rest of eternity? Great, just what I needed this weekend to make the whole week perfect.”

Dean was pretty proud of his spot-on recap of their situation, but his smile faded instantly when he noticed Ben clenching his hands into his thighs, and the tension mounting in his shoulders in what had to be bordering on painful.

“You are right, I… I shouldn’t have asked this of you. There’s no way I’m getting out of this in such a short time, and I shouldn't guilt-trip you into a fight like this. I should go.”

Dean frowned and fumbled for words to tell the boy that he hadn’t meant it like that, but he was really starting to lose his touch with the kind of comforting and encouraging business that had rolled off of him so damn easily in the early years of his hunting life. Nevertheless, he steadied the wheel with one hand and cupped the other on the boy’s neck, rubbing lightly and ignoring the subtle flinch.

“No, wait Ben, that’s not… you’re not going anywhere, until we got you out of this mess, alright? I promised your mom that we would find you and bring you back to her, and I damn well plan on keeping that promise. Besides, we’ve had worse, believe me.”

Ben looked over sceptically and huffed a little breath; his face hardening, and his features blanking in a way that brought out the trained warrior and left no trace of the little boy that had shone through his countenance before. His obvious disbelief blanketed his posture almost visibly. Dean didn’t elaborate but exchanged a look with Sam through the rear-view mirror that held an entire history in the blink of an eye. His brother nodded slightly and then turned his eyes to the back of Ben’s head.

“Have you ever been with the Hunt when they rode?”

Ben turned slightly, and the hard cast of his expression, and the down-turned corners of his mouth belied the delicacy of the topic.

“No… at least, not outside the Netherworld. We move in the realm of the Sidhe all the time; they are nomadic by default, and the court goes wherever the Queen is heading. But the conditions for crossing through the veil are only right about half a dozen times a year, and only full-fledged members of the Hunt are allowed to enter this plane in the times of the Storm Nights. They don’t always take someone back with them, because people are more likely to stay indoors during a storm nowadays, but from time to time there are children who are out at night.”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Do they ride in every storm?”

“Oh, no of course not. Not every storm is in the right place at the right time to make a rift possible, and it’s always more likely to happen closer to the great feasts.”

Now the tall man perked up and pursed his lips in a way that suggested an expectation had been met. He didn’t hesitate long before continuing to the next question though.

“But you said you were taken in broad daylight and nowhere near a storm. How is that possible?”

Ben shrugged and fiddled with the hem of his tunic for a few moments.

“I’m not exactly sure either. I asked her about it years ago, and she told me that my blood was special and called to her. I couldn’t ever make sense of that at all, but now that I think of it,… you wouldn’t happen to know something about that, wouldn’t you?”

Dean frowned for a moment and looked over at Ben shortly before training his eyes back onto the road, but he didn’t miss Sam’s knuckles brushing Ben's back as Sam curled his hand into a fist.

“Why would we know anything?”

“Well, considering I’m your son and all I thought…”

Ben didn’t have time to finish the sentence and barely managed to brace his hands on the dashboard of the Impala when Dean swerved the car rather abruptly across the road and parked it for the second time that day amid smoking tires. The engine ticked reproachfully at the rude treatment, but for once Dean didn’t notice in the slightest, sitting there with his hands clenched in a white-knuckled grip, staring at the young man beside him with wide, horrified eyes, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly for a few seconds.

“You… my… WHAT?”

 

Ben met his eyes with an equally stupefied air before removing his hands from the dashboard to cross his arms over his chest, and he slouched half into the seat, half against the door as far from Dean as possible. Blankness rippled over his face at a moment’s notice, but defiance oozed out of every muscle in his tense body.

“I… it’s ok, I suspected, but since Mum didn’t want to talk about it, and you didn’t want to stay with us, I figured… I’m not trying to make you… I don’t … I’m not…”

Sam stilled the young man’s rant with a hand on his shoulder which made Ben jump and look at him, startled, as if he’d forgotten Sam was even there with them.

“Ben, that’s not… we didn’t know, alright? We didn’t know.”

The three of them sat there silent for a moment, in an awkward triangle of not knowing what to say and clueless what to do with the revelation that had just taken place. That is until Dean burst out laughing in a pitch that bordered on hysterical and filled the interior of the car with a swell of sound that was swallowed by murderous silence after a moment. Dean leaned his head on the wheel for a moment, before he turned, shoulders still shaking with suppressed guffaws and spoke up.

“I… I don’t believe it, this is just too good. And I’m sorry to say, kid, but it’s not true. Your mother told me herself that she’d had you tested, and it was some guy she met in a biker bar with only a P.O. Box to his name, and nothing to add to your life. But I admit you really had me there for a moment, though I don’t like telling you that you had it wrong.”

Ben’s eyes glazed over and flashed dangerously for a moment, almost as if a storm cloud was really gathering around his head.

“I know it’s true for the fact that the spell that brought me here was designed to anchor the rift in the location of the Next of Kin, though I didn’t expect the ‘next’ to work out quite so literally. Besides, I know how torn up my mother was after you’d left again, even though she did her best to hide it. And how _did_ the two of you meet, anyway?”

“Well, we were in a bar of course, and after a few drinks together we hit it off like lightening so we decided to spend some time together somewhere with less racket than those raucous biker dudes where making … and after the weekend… I gave her the number of… SON OF A BITCH.”

Dean stared at Ben for a few moments and only now seemed to register just how much they shared in terms of looks and attitude, before he abruptly shoved the door open and scrambled out of the car in a mad dash. The frame shook with the force of the door slamming shut that would be sorely regretted later on, but right now Dean could do nothing but stalk off into the last rays of the sinking sun, hands clasped behind his head in a gesture of hapless disbelief and the urge to _move_ and do something with the things he’d just learned.

 

They sat in the awkward silence of the car for a few moments until Ben made to open the door on his side and follow Dean.

“Don’t.”

The young man looked at Sam with a defiant, furious expression, not taking his hand from the door handle but not opening it either.

“He can’t just…”

“Yes, he can and you’re going to let him. I know that you have every right to demand we deal with this and since you spend years thinking about the how’s and why’s, wondering and I can’t imagine what you came up with, but… when we passed through your town and Dean learned about you, it was a very… it was a very difficult time in his life and he thought that maybe there was a chance until your mum told him there wasn’t. It’s… we’re not exactly prone to having family alive and well and it’s been just us for such a long time and a lot of losses on the way. You’ve got to give him some time to come to terms with it on his own, can you do that?”

Ben’s jaw tensed for a moment, eyes downcast, but then he let go of the door handle and allowed his hand to rest on his thigh even though it was balled in a fist. Nevertheless he nodded and then looked up at Sam again.

“He really didn’t know?”

“Believe me kid, you would have known if he had. If only that we made sure that nothing like this could happen to you while we were away. But this makes things even more complicated to deal with since you are…”

Sam broke off the sentence in the middle and caught himself, as if he knew he'd said too much already, but Ben couldn’t fathom what he would have said, if not Dean’s refusal to actually acknowledge him as his son, which sounded freakish even in his own mind, now that he realized how little separated them in terms of years. He wanted to rip at his hair and dig his fingers into his eyes with the frustration and the unfairness of it all. He’d learned some important things in the little time he’d spent with the man around his eighth birthday, and while he had never known for sure, the thought had always brightened his spirits when he couldn’t bear it anymore… living in an alien society he had never actually managed to fit in properly, fey politics and intrigues always going over his head and the yearning for home and family instead driving him to become an ambitious and relentless scholar of all things the Court of the Sidhe Queen could offer him. All so that he might have the chance to see his mother again one day, to tell her he loved her and never wanted to leave again. And now he had found a distant, ignorant, young father, who had no clue what to do about him.

 

Ben was startled out of his contemplation by the much more subtle opening of the car door, and the rustle of leather that accompanied Dean’s body sliding into the driver’s seat again. Ben still had his back pressed against the door and was facing Dean that way. The other man had his left hand perched loosely on the wheel the other lying thigh, the most laid-back pose all in all, but his shoulders where visibly thrumming with tension, and he stared straight out of the windshield, not chancing a glance toward the other occupants of the car even for half a second. The silence crackled through the interior of the car, and Ben was just about to snap and say something, when Dean finally turned his eyes on him… well, looked at him from the corner of his eyes at least.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Dean’s voice carried a certain kind of waver that indicated he was rather sure of the answer but needed to hear it nonetheless.

“Quite so, I’m afraid. The nature of the spell doesn’t leave any room for…”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because Dean stretched out his arm to snag him behind his neck and drag him forward in one smooth motion. The older man ignored his flailing limbs and tugged Ben's forehead against his shoulder where Ben allowed himself to breathe in only for a split second. before he felt Dean’s hot breath in a whisper right beside his ear.

“We’re going to get you out of this, alright? You’re _not_ going to die.”

Ben nodded minutely and was released from Dean’s grip so abruptly that he snapped upright again. He stared at the other man as he turned the ignition and made the Impala’s powerful engine thrum to life. He pulled away from the blacktop with screeching tires, eyes firmly on the road as if nothing had happened. Incredulously, Ben turned his eyes to meet Sam’s gaze and was met with a shrug and a secretive smile that didn’t really reach Sam’s eyes, instead they showed an abundance of history he couldn’t decipher with just a look. He was dazzled and confused, but decided that he could live with it if this was really _it,_ since it was still more than he had thought he would ever get. Neither of the three was particularly interested in talking right now, or so it seemed, which is why the silence prevailed inside the car as it inexorably ate away at the road.

 

Ben wanted to ask where they were going, and how long it was going to take, but he sounded so much like a whining child in his own head when he tried to find a way to breach the silence that he gave up after opening his mouth futilely a few times. Dean didn’t acknowledge his presence again while he was driving, and Sam was an unknown quantity that hadn’t even played a part in his musings on family up to now. If he was honest with himself, he had been so busy pondering scenarios of what he would do, how he’d find out, what kind of questions he’d ask if he ever met Dean again, that he had kind of forgotten that he’d have an uncle as well as a father if everything panned out.

Ben wondered if Sam was thinking the same thing now, and whether it felt just as weird to him. He tried to sneak a furtive glance at the tall man in the back seat, without being too obvious, but Sam was looking out of the window on Dean’s side and didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him. Reflected light from the window played over his features and illuminated a silvery scar that ran from the side of his neck to his shirt collar and didn’t look like the kind of injury one could possibly survive. Curiosity spiked through Ben, and his honed sorcerer’s senses reached out, more on their own accord than in conscious thought. There was something about Sam, the touch of something big and unearthly that no human mind was designed to fathom. It provided a layer of distance around the tall man - something that might possibly be felt by ordinary people, even if not consciously.

It made Ben shiver with dread, silent revulsion and immense fascination, contradictory feelings that puzzled him. Sam seemed to catch onto his thoughts at that very moment, because he looked up unexpectedly and held Ben’s eyes with an unwavering gaze, trapping him with eyes that reflected an unnatural glaze for a split second, grinding the world to halt. He saw the brightest, sharpest darkness, before Sam finally blinked and turned his eyes away, breaking the spell. Ben had the feeling that the man had found out far more about him than the other way round, and it made his stomach clench with overwhelming unease. And there it was again, that uncanny smile that spoke of loss, and regret and so little hope. A slow creak of the leather alerted Ben to a shifting motion, and told him that Dean must have noticed the silent exchange. The older man didn’t say anything though, but still, it made Ben feel like he was in way over his head, and considering he’d spent the better part of his adolescence at the court of one of the most powerful Fey Queens, that was saying something.

 


	4. Chapter 4

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/mangacat201/pic/0000zedt/)

Dean steered the car into a more populated area again, nearing their destination, the route to the familiar driveway clear in his mind. He was half driving on autopilot, half concentrating very hard on the road, in order not to think about things. Because not thinking about things was a Winchester-special, and it had served him well all his life. He was very grateful that caring-and-sharing-Sammy had for once understood that talking about feelings right now was more likely to get them killed, wrapped around a tree by the roadside, than solving any issues. Though, looking back on the last few months, he had to admit that his brother was more and more unlikely to be the person that sat them down and made them face what was in front of them. Dean sure remembered what it had cost them to right their own wrongs, working against entities that were as old as time, and that had absolutely no regard for some lone human life. And that had left traces, gouges more like, in their life, their minds and souls, that he had put in a box deep down. To be honest with himself, he was kind of glad about Ben barging in on them like that, with a big problem in tow that required solving. After they’d recovered and yet remained sequestered, away from the world, for such a long time, there was a kind of aimlessness inside them, as if going back to their job was not possible anymore.  
  
He and Sam hadn’t exactly discussed it, but they’d pretty much been driving around without any real purpose, before Lisa’s call had reached them. It felt good to be preparing again, going on a hunt, saving someone who needed their skills. The prospect took an edge of his mind he hadn’t even consciously acknowledged. The complication of Ben’s claim however made the situation difficult. He remembered quite well how disappointed and relieved he had been when Lisa had told him no those three years ago. He couldn’t blame her since he wouldn’t have known what to do if she’d really admitted that Ben was his. His life hadn’t had room for a child then and had never been designed to have even though the possibility had made something surge inside him with the kind of longing that could only be compared to the times alone on the road, with Sam off in college, and Dad in his own head and on a mission. Ben was now more man than boy, and his brush with the supernatural had dragged him into the life of a hunter, whether he wanted it or not. It made Dean’s gut clench with frustration at the way they couldn’t seem to escape that circle. He had accepted the way his life had panned out, but that didn’t mean he would have wanted that for any child who had a shot at a normal life with his mother and a circle of friends. Instead his… Ben had spent his youth all alone in a hostile world, and it made him furious to think about it. And there went all his good intentions out of the window, the unbidden swirl of thoughts making his head ache fiercely.  
  
All of a sudden he felt a tingle as something brushed his mind, and the temperature in the car dropped considerably. He felt an answer from what he’d come to associate with Sam’s cool presence in the back of his mind. It was one of those things they didn’t mention, but he was well aware of it all the same. Throwing a sideways glance at Ben, he found the boy looking spooked, but Dean decided to let the matter lie for the moment. It would be difficult enough to deal with the Sidhe, no use in trying to explain the apocalypse to the boy. This was getting way too complicated, and he decided to take one step at a time for now. Good thing they were actually rumbling into the outskirts of the small town that hosted their very own angelic counsellor, even though Dean cringed at the thought that he’d have to ask Cas to come with them, instead of just doing some mumbo-jumbo on a miniature race car. Amelia was really not going to like it.

~*~

Ben noticed that they weren’t just driving through this particular small town, Dean took turns into a back area, where the houses started to scatter into wider strips of land, gardens and playgrounds, but with a purpose that told him they were near the end of their journey. When the car finally rumbled to a stop, it was in front of a one-storey house with a high veranda, and some half a dozen steps leading up to it. It looked perfectly ordinary painted in some light colour that shone cold and bright in the streetlights. A swing-seat swayed softly in the light breeze that also made a little wind chime tinkle with a high pitched sound. Dean and Sam got out of the car, and he followed, leaning against the door, scuffing his boots, a little unsure what to expect. Also, he realized belatedly, he didn’t exactly look presentable for the company of normal people, wearing the chain-mail and light armor he had taken from the Netherworld. When he looked back at the house, however, his nose twitched slightly from an exotic scent that struck a chord within that part of him that was attuned to magic of all kinds. After he’d adjusted his eyes, Ben could suddenly see the walls were covered over and over in symbols unknown to him, but obviously very powerful, since he could feel the energy thrumming inside the walls, barely contained under a coat of paint.  
  
So there were definitely no ordinary people living here after all. Sam and Dean hadn’t yet made it around the car when the porch-light flickered on. The distinctive sound of the car had probably alerted someone inside the house, and when the brothers came to stand next to him, the door opened, and a girl slipped out, encircled by a halo of light that spilled through the open doorway. She stepped forward, and his eyes were instantly captivated by her. The girl was wearing a top and some hot-pants, with a broad shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The covering was completely reasonable in this warm summer night and a light breeze, but it did nothing to hide her slim figure, or her case of seriously long legs. She looked a little coltish, not yet all grown into her body, arms crossed in front of her, but the blond waves that were streaked through with fiery red framed her smooth features and hinted at a fair, angelic beauty that wasn’t too far from maturity. When he finally met her piercing blue eyes, they sparkled at him with barely contained mirth, hidden knowledge and a good deal of curiosity. She held his gaze confidently while cocking her hip to lean against the railing of the topmost step and turned her head lightly to shout into the open doorway: “Daddy, they’re here!”

~*~

The Impala creaked comfortingly when Dean leaned on her hood, and he looked up at the girl on the porch, not surprised that she was the one to greet them. She had developed an uncanny ability of foretelling even though her mother was loath to hear it. It was a really curious little family that had settled here, not too far from where they’d started out originally, but having come a long way. Sometimes he wondered how they'd done it, but somehow things had worked out for them. Caught in his own musings, Dean was a little bit distracted, but not so much that he entirely missed the sudden tension springing up into the air around them. He wondered where it had come from for a moment, then he noticed that Ben’s eyes where set on Claire as if they’d been super-glued. A little puzzled, Dean turned his head to look at the girl who was just about to hit her fifteenth birthday if he remembered rightly and did a double take when he noticed that she’d actually shot up a couple of inches since he’d last seen her. She'd grown a pair of long, lean runner’s legs and, god forbid, a pair of nicely shaped breasts to go with it. His eyes flew from Claire to the boy and back a few times at breakneck speed, while his mind supplied the helpful terms… woman, curves, Winchester and short-circuited from there.

His reaction was perfectly understandable. Really.

He exclaimed: “WHAT? That…. HELL no..!”

And proceeded to slap a hand over Ben’s eyes immediately. Then he slapped a hand over his own eyes just for good measure, for thinking what he had just now. He could hear Sam snicker like mad, the bastard, when he too caught onto the situation. He would have kicked his brother too if his s… the b… Ben hadn’t been in between and furiously swatting at his arm. When Dean turned around and lifted his hand from his eyes, he met the glare of approximately 5,9 of seriously pissed-off teenager and thought how he would like to have the fairies barging in now, please.

“What the…”

Instead, all he got was Castiel.

“Hello, Dean. I wasn’t aware you were bringing a guest. Why don’t you introduce us?”

 

Dean was kept from further squabbling with Ben by the man that had sneaked through the door and was casually perched on the middle steps. He still looked completely foreign to Dean sometimes, now that he was regularly changing his clothes. Although he suspected that Amelia had more to do with that than he was comfortable thinking about. Speaking of the devil – and didn’t he manage to make himself cringe in his own head with uncanny precision – the third member of the family appeared in the doorway as if she had sensed his thoughts.

“Dean, Sam, what a pleasure,” they’d resolved their differences after averting the apocalypse, but Dean still could not tell how much sarcasm there really was lurking behind her words whenever she addressed him, “why don’t you come in and we can talk?”

Dean would rather have breezed in and out in a pinch, but he’d learned that contradicting her on that would be detrimental to his health, so he nodded and set off towards the door. He ushered Claire inside in front of him expansively and felt Ben’s glaring eyes like a couple of heated embers on his back. This wasn’t quite how he had figured this meeting would go, but so far nothing in this case had turned out the way they’d anticipated, there was no reason why it would start now. Then he heard a gasp and turned to see Ben sway slightly on the threshold though, after a moment, he quickly stepped through and righted himself as if nothing had happened. Dean met Cas’s gaze over the boy's shoulder and gave a minute shake of his head at the raised eyebrow.

Soon, they were all seated around the coffee table – Dean had grabbed Ben’s shoulder and dragged him down onto the couch to sit beside him, while he glared Claire into the single on the other side. She smirked at him like she knew more than she was supposed to, but relented and slunk down with her legs folded under her, which didn’t really make things any better, although he would take what he could get. God, these things had worked out so much easier with Sam as far as he recalled, even though his brother had had his fair share of hissy fits as a teen. Amelia came back from the kitchen with a tray of drinks that no one was seriously interested in, but she set it down anyway before leaning against the back of the couch on the opposite side, close to where Cas had sat down, absently twirling her fingers in the fine hair at the nape of his neck. It was such a striking sign of human domesticity that Dean had to avert his eyes, feeling like an intruder. While a lot had changed in their lives in such a short time, he was glad to see that it wasn’t all for the worst at least, the remnants of a distant, oblique future flitting through his mind briefly.

 

There was an awkward moment of silence. It became clear to Sam that Dean was caught up in his own thoughts again – it happened a lot lately – and Ben had no idea who these people were, or where to start. So he leaned forward a bit and decided to get the introductions over with.

“Amelia, Claire, Cas… I know we originally asked for your help in finding someone, but, as you can see, that problem kind of solved itself on the road. This is Ben Braeden, his mother was the one who called us after he had vanished two months ago.”

Castiel raised his eyebrow speculatively and looked at Dean before he spoke.

“I thought you said he was a young boy? That one is definitely a bit older than eleven.”

Dean ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck reflexively, while Sam went on to answer the questions that would undoubtedly come up concerning the situation.

“That’s because he is actually quite a bit older now, since he spent close to seven years in the Netherworld. Ben told us that he apparently was taken by a Wild Hunt and has spent his life as an aspiring if unwilling apprentice of the Queen of the Sidhe since then. He’s only just managed to find a way out of the Netherworld to escape his upcoming initiation.”

Cas blanched where he sat and was out of his seat and in front of Dean and Ben in a couple of seconds flat. He wrenched the boy’s collar down to expose his chest, fabric straining and chain mail clinking, revealing a twirling Celtic mark, scorched black into the skin right over Ben’s heart. He studied it intently for a moment, mindless of the fact that Ben had reacted to the assault with a hidden dagger, poised and ready, aiming for the lower part of the dark haired man’s ribcage, just half an inch from breaking the skin and sliding in clean under the bones. The weapon trembled with the enormous effort it took to keep it just a quick motion away from lethal, and also from the crunching force grinding together the delicate bones in his wrist. While Cas seemingly ignored the deadly weapon in favour of some scholarly interest, Dean had far from missed it. Quite the opposite in fact, as proven by his hand that held Ben’s arm in a vice-like grip that was only explainable from years upon years of honing these kinds of reflexes, to the point of not being able to shut them off anymore.

The whole situation was frozen, suspended in a moment of bloodcurdling horror, until Cas spoke again.

“Freya’s Kiss. I suspected there was something on you that triggered the wards, but I’m amazed how you could even stand to walk over the threshold. Just staying still in here must cost you remarkable effort and strength of will.”

Only when he'd spoken did the other people in room notice the continuous hitch in Ben’s breath, and the slight sheen of perspiration that covered his skin. His eyes were locked onto Cas’ for a beat, and then, suddenly, time appeared to right itself again, and Ben reacted violently, tearing away from the hands gripping him and running through the front door with hasty strides, a thunderous noise in his wake.

Everybody stared after him wide-eyed for another moment, but when Dean made to follow Ben out after he recovered from his shock, Cas took a hold of his arm and shook his head.

“Don’t, let him be for a moment, he will not go far. I’m sorry, I was out of line just now, but I understand the matter you bring before me holds great urgency. I will help however I can, but a serving bond with the Sidhe royalty is beyond my ability to break. We’ll have to talk about what can be done soon, now just let him cool off for a bit. Meanwhile, you can tell me the whole story.”

 

Ben breathed a lot easier once he had left the house, since that dark haired man had been right, and it had cost him to even step over the threshold. He was out on the lawn, leaning against Brigid, taking in the comforting, familiar scent of her mane, while he waited for his breathing to ease again. If he hadn’t seen that the house was shrouded in a set of intricate and foreign but very powerful wards, he’d have been worried about just how much more fey than human he was already. Still, it had surprised him how violently and instinctively he’d reacted to Castiel manhandling him like that. Despite all his training, he hadn’t really spent time in a real battle, and he had never really had to test his instincts and reflexes outside the appointed practice. It made him glow with secret pride and shiver with worry all at the same time; now that he was among humans again after such a long time at the Sidhe court, he suddenly noticed the differences.  
  
There would be no going back to life the way it had been before which had been difficult to imagine during the long years while he had plotted his escape. That hit home hard, now that he'd found the other side of the veil so changed and yet so little different. The mix of anger, and hurt and fierce longing that sprang from Dean’s actions towards him didn’t help the situation even a little bit. It felt like scrubbing an open wound clean after a long time of hurt and abandonment, very painful, although necessary, and he couldn’t deny the grudging attachment that came with the Winchester’s presence even after such a short time. He still wondered what this weird man he was visiting, and his curious – graceful, lean, beautiful, stone-cold – family could do for them, when somebody spoke behind his back.

“You’ll have to excuse my father. Personal space is such a human concept that he still has trouble with it sometimes. They were raised to do things a lot more hands on up there.”

Ben whirled around and found Claire standing behind him, looking much the same as she had been when he had first seen her, wrapped in a scarf and bathed in the bright glow of the porch light. Her eyes assessed him keenly, and he fumbled for an answer for a moment.

“I… I’ll be alright, I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to…”

She waved at him to stop and carelessly laid her hand on Brigid’s flank to card her fingers through the honey coloured mane. Ben was surprised when nothing happened, since his trusty mount tended not to take too well to people touching her out of the blue and without proper introduction.

“It’s not like you could have actually killed him, so it’s really not that big of a deal.”

Ben stared at her speechless, since this was the last thing he had expected to come out of her mouth.

“Wha… WHAT? How are you so sure, I mean, I didn’t really want to, but I would have dealt him a lethal blow if I hadn’t stopped in time.”

She cocked her head and absentmindedly continued to pet the horse with long sweeping brushes of her hand.

“Well, you see, he’s an Angel, or at least, what is left of one after he's been around human company for too long, traipsing all over the earth. But he still knows a lot of things, and that’s probably why Sam and Dean came here. How do you know them anyway?”

Ben had thought growing up among the Sidhe would have made him the real odd one out in any family, but he was slowly beginning to realize that he was not even close to out of the ordinary, at least in this company. Still, her telling him as a side-note that her father was apparently an angel baffled him, but he didn’t know how much would be prudent to tell her in return, so he fumbled a bit and told her that Dean had known his mom and had just happened to be there when they’d had a problem with changeling infestation some years ago. Her laugh tinkered like little pearls and gems inside his ears, but she turned serious pretty fast.

“There’s something else though, isn’t there? This reeks too much of a typical Winchester mess not to be any more complicated than that.”

Now it was Ben’s turn to look away and card his hands through Brigid’s mane with purposeful distraction. She was too perceptive for her own good, but also the feeling that she knew the brothers so much better than he did sent a flaring stab of envy through his gut. Maybe it was the wish to make her understand better and tell him more that led him to tell her about the connection he shared with the Winchesters.

“I… am… Dean… he’s my father. Actually, I’m, I only just…”

He tapered off uncertainly when his chest constricted with the fact that speaking it aloud now that he knew for sure made it more real than years and years of rehearsing all the plausible reasons in his head hadn’t managed. Claire pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded.

“Is he now…”

“I know, it’s… complicated. Difficult to explain.”

“Oh no, certainly not, your resemblance is striking. It’s just a bit… odd.”

Ben laughed bitterly, and Brigid whinnied sharply when she sensed his growing distress, so he had to calm her down a bit.

“Tell me about it. I just… I never actually thought I would get to have this, all the time he wasn’t there, and now that I do, it’s… kinda not what I expected.”

That drew a humourless snort from her.

“Yeah, believe me, I know all about _that._ ”

Claire looked back at the house where they could see the adults conversing avidly through the window.

“I know how it is with absent fathers that come back and aren't exactly how you remember them,” she turned back and looked him square in this eye, ”but I’ve learned that sometimes things aren’t as bad as they seem, and certainly not as bad as one might believe in the first place. I mean, my family is really weird, you saw that, but… it’s my family you know?”

Ben nodded and felt slightly mollified. Here he had been thinking about just how much Dean had overstepped his boundaries already by dressing him down like he had earlier, but this made him realize that, consciously or not, Dean was starting to treat him like something other than just an obligation. It made his heart flutter with that little, insane kind of hope that he hadn’t allowed himself to harbor for so many years. Ben nodded at Claire, grateful for her encouragement and easy acceptance without trying to pry too much. He wanted to take her hand and thank her in a more heartfelt way, but then the door banged open, and people spilled out of the house. When Dean caught them standing there close together his eyes narrowed with disapproval, but Ben found a spark of defiance inside himself that wouldn’t be intimidated by the older man’s impressive glare and told him not to budge an inch. Sam just watched the exchange with a small, secret smile on his lips. They came to stand in front of him, and Cas addressed him with a grave look on his face.

“I know about your plight now, and I’m very sorry that I can’t do anything for you at the moment, but I don’t have the kind of power that is needed to break such binding links as the Sidhe forge.”

Ben nodded once and said he understood, and that again he was terribly sorry about what happened in there, but the man waved him into silence much like Claire had done minutes before.

“I know one or two things that might be of use, but I’ll have to do some looking around for them. In the meantime, Dean and Sam tell me that you’re going to do some research of your own, and I hope that together we’ll be able to turn up something that will take care of this.”

Ben nodded and thanked the man, angel, whatever. Then he looked at Dean to see whether the man was willing to come forth with the information on where they were going next.

“We’re going to South Dakota, to see an old hunter who knows a lot about all sorts of things. If we’re lucky, he’ll have the right literature at hand too.”

“South Dakota… how far from here is that?”

“We’ll be driving about four hours, if we start out now, we can be there a bit after midnight.”

Ben nodded and then made a decision.

“I will ride then.”

“What? No, no way!”

At Dean’s short refusal, Ben found himself getting angry and worked up over the fact that the older man had already apparently assumed the role of a patronizing father, but lacked any trust in Ben, or his knowledge of his own abilities.

“You can’t make me ride in the car with you, and you _know_ we can keep up without any problems. I just… I need some air. Space to breathe and clear my head, and in the car it’s all metal and confining and…”

Suddenly Dean looked contrite, thoughtful, as if he had made the same conclusions in his mind just now. The older man grasped his arm and dragged him a few feet away, so that they might have a little shred of privacy.

“I… I’m sorry, kid, I didn’t mean… you have to tell me when something like this bothers you, alright? I had no idea that the Enochian sigils would cause you trouble, or that you felt… uncomfortable with us.”

That made Ben look down at the ground between them, because he realized that Dean hadn’t actually had a lot of time to adjust to this new situation or learn a lot about him. It was just as new for all of them, but Ben had had so many dreams and fantasies about what it would be like to get to know his father for real, that reality was kind of difficult to take in. He decided he would not back down on his own choices – he was a chosen warrior after all, no matter what the circumstances might be – but he’d be more mindful of Dean’s point of view.

“I wasn’t… it’s not you that’s the problem here, it’s just that everything in this realm is so.far.away. And this is so much to deal with in such a short time. So I need to ride to get my head free.”

Dean nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“It’s ok, just… follow us closely, and don’t let yourself be seen when someone else is on the road, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Ben was taken aback by the sudden hitch in Dean’s breath and uncanny feeling that he’d just turned into the focus of some very serious attention on Sam’s part. Sam had been conversing with Cas with his back turned, but he'd become stock-still a fraction of a second after the words were uttered. Ben realized that something was going on here that he had absolutely no knowledge of, but he didn’t have a clue what he might have done to cause this kinds of reaction. Dean ripped him out of his musings soon though.

“Don’t… just, don’t call me that. It’s, call me Dean, alright? Just Dean. For now.”

Ben felt his shoulders slump as a considerable weight fell from them, even though he only just noticed it now that it was gone. He nodded and leaned a bit more into Dean’s touch, the grip on his shoulder tightening slightly as an answer. When he looked up he caught Sam looking at them over his shoulder with an understanding expression, and suddenly he felt as if something very important had come to pass right in this very moment. Only he had no idea exactly what it was, beside the fact that it was big. Really big. Ben decided that now was not the time to press the issue and went to say good-bye to that strange family that had welcomed him, however bumpy and short the stay.

After he’d said good-bye to her parents, he turned to Claire, who gave him a mischievous wink and then leaned forward to brush her lips against his cheek in the lightest of touches, whispering a short good-bye against his skin before drawing back. He felt his cheeks light up in what must have been quite a flaming red, and he quickly turned and mounted to hide his embarrassment. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the adults smiling secret smiles at each other, except for Dean, who pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Sam took his brother’s arm and dragged him to the car, folding his big frame behind the wheel, since he was the fresh driver. He revved the engine, flooding the driveway with light. Brigid whinnied and pranced at the sound, but Ben was able to calm her down soon enough, and with one last look at the inconspicuous house and its occupants who were so much more than they looked on the surface, he turned and followed the sleek black car down the road, nursing a little spark of hope that he would be able to come back sometime for a longer stay.

 

Sam drove with the same cool efficiency he always exuded behind the wheel, and he kept them on the straight and narrow, pushing fast, since they had no interest in taking the whole night to drive up to the salvage yard. When he looked over, he always caught Dean with his eyes straying out of the window, though he had his chin propped up in his hand in a gesture of extreme ennui. He snorted lightly after the fifth time or so and flexed his fingers around the wheel. Dean looked over at him at the sound and lifted his eyebrow in askance.

“What?”

Sam just shook his head lightly and allowed himself a small amused smile.

“What? Sam, I know you, you’re dying to say something, spill it out.”

“After all that we’ve been through, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a mother hen, Dean.”

That got Dean all flustered and rumbling a line of choice expletives.

“Oh don’t be like that, you know how it is. You’ve taken to the boy already and you started patronizing him instantly, just like a good dad should. It’s adorable, really.”

Dean had absolutely no appreciation for Sam’s amusement in this case though.

“I’m not… what the fuck are you on about?”

“It’s just… I wouldn’t have expected you to accept it all and fall into the role of a father so easily, is all. After all, you were the one that never made any plans for a white picket fence and 2.5 kids.”

Dean stared out of the windshield and his hand on his face grew so tense that it left white marks on the skin of his jaw from the pressure.

“I didn’t. And I haven’t ever made plans such as that. But that doesn’t mean that I never pictured some kind of family in my life. You know, contrary to your belief, it was never that much of a burden for me to raise you, even though you’ve led yourself to believe that. I might not have been a glorious substitute for Dad being a real normal Dad, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to be. I just thought… I’d buried that kind of wish, because I never thought I’d have the chance. To have this…”

Dean’s unexpected admission made Sam’s breath hitch with the immensity of the impact that little piece of banter suddenly had on their lives. Deep down, he had suspected that Dean might have thought about this more than he let on, especially after the events leading up to their great battle last spring, but he hadn’t imagined it was the burning, searing longing that he saw flickering in Dean’s eyes, now that something was in his reach. He almost regretted teasing his big brother about it, but he was also glad to find out how Dean felt now, because it made everything so much different. It was one thing to fight for an innocent life, even with such a close and personal background as they had with Lisa and Ben, but it was something entirely different to fight for family. And Sam knew what lengths Dean would go to hold that close, so he would have to plan according to that. He chanced a short look out of the window at the side of the road, where Ben was riding, poised over the neck of his mare. Ben was keeping up with of the car with no difficulty, and a disturbing lack of outward signs of speed. The horse didn’t seem to run as fast as the car exactly, it just appeared to skip over the ground by inches, somewhere in between lifting its hooves and thundering down onto the turf again.  
  
Sam didn’t know how he did it, but it was damned impressive and surely a complex bit of fairy magic. He recognized a hunter in the posture of this young man, and he knew that fell into the family tradition like a fish into water. It worried Sam, and he grieved for the innocence of the little boy that had had his childhood stolen, and his family ripped apart like that, but he couldn't help but hope that Ben was going to heal a part of Dean that had been gaping like an open wound for a long time. First, of course, they had to free him from a contract with one of the most powerful and capricious Queens on the planet and save him from certain death and eternal servitude. Somehow that sounded in equal amounts familiar and impossible to achieve. Still, Sam knew that failure was not an option this time, any more than it had last time, he would just have to have one more plan up his sleeve to outwit their opponent. This was another chance to make things right, and he would take it. Startled by such grave and introspective thoughts, Sam came out of his stupor and concentrated on the road once more. Dean hadn’t uttered a sound since their last words had been spoken, and Sam didn’t think he expected an answer. Through the heavy, but not uncomfortable silence between them, Sam found his own kind of determination, and spurred the car into a greater speed.


	5. Chapter 5

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/mangacat201/pic/00012rx5/)

It was the darkest part of the night when they neared the gates that were familiar and comforting for the two men in the car, but they posed an entirely different kind of challenge for the rider on the horse. The car glided underneath the arching sign of metal-plated letters without a hitch, but Ben felt Brigid go tense and unsettled half a mile away, and when they neared the gate she refused to follow his lead for the first time in his life and reared on her hind-legs, before they could pass the entrance to the property. Ben felt it too, an oppressive cold seeping into his bones through her instincts, terrifying and seemingly unconquerable. She pranced in front of the entrance and he let her reigns go to give her freedom, since he knew that she would not go right now, even if he tried to force her. Sam and Dean seemed to have noticed instantly that he’d stayed outside and got out of the car once they’d parked it, to jog outside and see what was the matter at hand. Ben slid out of the saddle and pulled the reins in to calm Brigid down enough, so the brothers could come near without immediate danger of being kicked.

“What is it?”

“This is a salvage yard, you didn’t tell me we were going to stay at a fricking salvage yard.”

Both brothers looked mightily puzzled for a moment, until Sam seemed to understand and slapped his hand over his eyes.

“Of course, I’m sorry Ben, I didn’t think.”

Dean glanced between them and looked very much out of the loop if his expression was anything to go by.

“Anyone care to enlighten me here?”

“Dean, it’s the horse and Ben… they’re saturated in Fey magic, and the one thing that gets to the Fey other than fire is cold iron. Stacks of huge hunks of metal are scattered all around this place. It’d be like a devil’s trap if the gates were closed.”

Finally, Dean seemed to get it, and he rubbed the back of his neck looking from the entrance to Ben and back with a look of annoyance on his face.

“I see, does that mean you can’t stay here at all?”

Ben pondered the question for a bit.

“I’m not sure. I mean, for me it’s not that big of a problem, but Brigid… it depends, is there a big enough space inside that’s free of metal, and something I can stable her in? Preferably made of something natural, like wood.”

Sam answered: “Well, there’s the yard around back of the house, it’s about thirty feet across and I suppose we could muck out the shack for you to put her in. The double doors should be big enough to let her in.”

Ben nodded and patted her neck comfortingly.

“That might work, I'll have to lead her inside carefully though and probably ward the doors of the shack. But we should be able to manage like that for a short while.”

Dean snorted and rubbed his eyes.

“Great, Bobby’s going to be just ecstatic about that.”

Sam shushed him and grinned at Ben as he slowly led the way.

“It’s going to be alright. Good thing is, we didn’t even consider that, but this place is like a stealth cover for the fairy radar. No way they’ll be able to find us like this. We’ll be a blank spot on the map.”

Ben considered the remark for a moment, but had to concede that Sam was right. A little discomfort wouldn’t keep him from shunning the protection and potential knowledge this house could provide. The space around them was vast and empty, if he let Brigid out and allowed her to run the plains on a regular basis, she should be alright for the foreseeable future. And it wasn’t like he had much time to spare, since they had to find a solution in less than two months time, or he was sure that not even a cage of metal would keep the Queen from rending apart the fabric of reality, seeking to claim what was hers by right. While he led the horse through the stacks of dead and gutted cars, he tried not think of the way to the house as a gaping chasm with no way out, but more of what might await him on the other end of the driveway. When the house finally came into view, it was ramshackle, dilapidated, but standing with a little defiant touch of its former glory, and, despite the lateness of the hour, there was a light showing in the windows of the lower storey. Sam and Dean didn’t seem surprised, and as they made their way through darkness of the yard, their sure steps showed that knew all about what might have been obstacles on the way. He wondered how often they’d walked across this ground in day or night, and what kind of person would be awaiting them at the door.

 

It turned out to be a grizzled man of undetermined, but advanced age, wearing a ball cap and grease, like it was the most natural attire in the world. He was sitting in a wheelchair, but that seemed kind of unimportant compared to the malevolent glare he sent them, looking them up and down as his growling voice welcomed the brothers with, “What the hell have you done now, you idjits?”

Ben stared, dumbfounded at this man who made Sam and Dean look like toddlers, caught with their hand in the cookie jar, before they had even started to explain why they’d come here. He marvelled at the man who could cause the two strong, confident men to stand there as contrite as any pranksters and take the scorn just like that, without even a flicker of defiance. And that had only been a single sentence so far. The air around them seemed to crackle with a certain kind of familiarity, and with emotions that Ben could only associate with one kind of bond. It unsettled him so much that he didn’t think, before he let his mouth run away.

“Are you my grandfather?”

From the look on his face, that was exactly the last thing the man had expected to hear, but he recovered quickly enough. He studied first Dean, then Sam, and then returned his gaze on Ben to scrutinize him again, with even more care than he had shown before. Ben refused to look away and met his eyes bravely, even though, once again, he had the feeling that he was missing out on some very important details here. Before long, the man’s gaze snapped back over to Dean, who stood tall for a moment and then actually looked down at the floor, color rising high on his cheekbones in a blush that looked so out of place on his face that it must have been years since it had last happened.

“Bobby, I can explain…”

“I bet you can. Boy, you sure better give me a really good one for this. Heaven forbid that you show up at my doorstep for a simple cup of coffee, _ever._ So come in then. _”_

The man – Bobby – jerked his head to indicate the way into the house and then wrenched his wheelchair around to retreat into the hallway, obviously expecting them to follow without question. Along the way he muttered something about “Damn Winchesters…” and “multiplying…” and “…can’t ever…”.

 

Dean walked after him instantly, and Sam nudged Ben to cross the threshold, before he entered the house as well. Once again Ben felt wards, but they weren’t as powerful and foreign in terms of magic as the angels reinforcements had been. He fancied he even knew some of the spells himself, though these had been done thoroughly but inexpertly, like someone reading from a book in a language that they’d heard before, but never learned themselves. They were led into the dilapidated kitchen, and Bobby fumbled four shot-glasses out of the cupboard, lining them up on the table and filling them from a bottle containing some smoky liquid, going through the motions like it was a well-known and highly regarded ritual.  
  
He didn’t fill them all the way, just enough to get a taste really, and, when he was done, he put the bottle down on the table and picked up one for himself. The intention was obvious, but Ben did look at Dean for a moment, before he picked up a glass of his own at the man’s almost imperceptible nod. Bobby threw back the liquid with practiced ease, same as Dean. Sam frowned at the glass for a second but knocked it back as well, with a grimace of what might have been either pain or dislike. The brothers exchanged a look, and Ben noticed a faint tremor in both their hands when they set down their glasses, looking at him expectantly. He knew without a doubt that it was a potent drink, and that it would be no use putting it off by sipping, so he screwed his eyes shut and let the liquid flow over his tongue with one single move. It tasted like clear spring water and a lick of concentrated fire melding together, and swallowing it like that made him cough and sputter while he set the glass down on the table top. It wasn’t the first time he’d tasted alcohol, it was quite common with all the feasts and state affairs the Queen held in her court, but the younger ones had never been allowed to drink something as potent as this.  
  
Ben wondered whether it was some kind of test of his manly prowess, though what good that would do as a welcome for all guests he had no idea. From the appreciative gazes all around, he supposed he must have passed, since nothing else happened for a heartbeat or two. Then Bobby moved again suddenly, and with just a pursing of lips told Sam to stay put and watch over him, while he ushered Dean out of the room with a jerk of his head. Ben watched the silent exchange, and the two man leaving in direction of what was possibly the living area. He turned back to Sam, who gave him a reassuring smile and not much else to go on.

 

When they arrived in the living room, Bobby rounded on Dean, crowded into his space and lifted an eyebrow. Dean stayed stubbornly silent for a few moments, unwilling to give in to Bobby’s manipulative tactics, but he had never been good with oppressive silences. It only took about a minute until he snapped.

“What!?”

Bobby still didn’t say anything, but started to smooth down the scratchy beard on his chin with an air of defiance that told Dean on no uncertain terms that he was screwed.

“Ok, fine, he’s mine, alright?”

The sentence hung in the air between them like a bell ringing, and Bobby’s eyes widened in surprise at the admission, but Dean wasn’t really paying attention, because he got it now. Finally it hit home just what Ben was to him, now, and quite possibly since he’d first seen him all those years ago, in the garden gushing over that CD. It literally knocked the air out of his lungs and made his knees so weak they couldn’t hold him up anymore. He slumped into the couch that was sitting conveniently behind him, otherwise he would have ended up on the floor in a very undignified heap and laughed hysterically at the fact that he was only just really realizing that he had a _son._

Sitting there, breath wheezing too fast and too shallow, his eyes watering from the lack of air, Dean understood that he had now, what he had given up long ago and thought he’d never achieve. A family, ties that bound him to another person, that only a very small circle of people on the world could claim, and while it was just as messed up - fucked six ways from Sunday in fact - as his family had always been, it was _his._

And that bitch of a fairy queen had better be on her guard, because if she tried to keep what was his, he was going to do her in so deep that she wouldn’t know what hit her. No one crossed a Winchester.

 

A stinging pain on his cheek jerked Dean out of his internal ravings and he gasped and looked at Bobby with wide, glazed eyes, before he got his bearings again.

“What the hell?”

“Yes, boy, indeed, what the hell? What are you on about?”

“I… I’m sorry, Bobby, I guess it just didn’t hit home until now.”

Bobby looked at him with disbelief clearly written all over his face.

“Are you serious? You really want to tell me that young man is yours? Have you SEEN him?”

Then Dean remembered that Bobby had never known about Lisa and Ben, and that he was not aware that the boy was supposed to be… well a boy still.

“He’s eleven. Or, he would be if he hadn’t spent a large part of his adolescence in the Netherworld at the court of the Fey Queen.”

“He WHAT?”

Dean looked sheepish at Bobby’s outburst, but he didn’t know how to break the news to him any other way.

“Yeah, you realize, we’re in a bit of a pinch, because he’s to join the Wild Hunt in a couple of months, and we’re not exactly all that keen on the dying part, even if he IS apparently a Winchester. Never mind how I’ll explain that to his… Son of a bitch!”

“Dean, what, slow down boy, I really can’t follow you.”

“She knew about it. She _knew_ and lied into my face about it. That’s just… I mean, I noticed before when Ben told me, but I should have realized what kind of threadbare excuse it was right there the first time.”

“Son, you’re really not making any sense. Are you saying you met this boy before?”

“Yes of course, it’s… this is a right mess.”

“Right now, Dean, I can’t really help you in anyway if you don’t tell me what exactly is going on.”

Bobby’s voice had taken on that sharp, cutting edge that made his presence known to everyone and showed that a lot of people underestimated him still – or especially now. It jerked Dean out of his mutterings and drew his attention to the older man.

“What?”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

And Dean did.

 

“So… is he?”

Sam turned to Ben with and inquisitive eyebrow.

“What?”

“My grandfather?”

Sam looked at the closed door behind which Dean and the man in the wheelchair where conversing, with a forlorn expression.

“Bobby? No, of course not. Well… technically, yes, he’s as close as you’re going to get in this part of the family, but genetically speaking? No.”

“So, your parents aren’t alive anymore.”

“No, they’re not. Haven’t been for a long time.”

Ben felt a short stab in the middle of his chest, for a loss that looked a lot harder on Sam’s face than he'd thought possible, and, sure, he had never met those people, but now he knew for sure that he wouldn’t ever get the chance, and it made him sad that he’d missed so much about his father’s life. The regret must have shown on his face since Sam’s expression softened and when raised voices rang through the door at the other end of the room, the tall man waved him out of the house and to the car where he started taking out their clothes and gear. They worked silently for a few moments, and when they’d deposited all the duffels onto the veranda and Ben had surreptitiously ogled all the weapons in the hidden compartment in the trunk, Sam led them around to the back of the house to where a ramshackle wooden shed was leaning precariously in the wind.  
  
Ben summoned Brigid with a whistle, and while she still looked ruffled and uncomfortable with her surroundings, the space around the house seemed to be wide enough to spare her the greatest discomfort. He helped Sam clean out some tools and debris, and when they opened the double doors to let it air out for a bit it became apparent that, while it might not be the most luxurious quarters for a horse, it would do for the foreseeable future. Ben then took care of all the gear he'd packed for the journey, he’d travelled light of course, but all his precious weapons were there. The dagger he kept on his body, the sword strapped to the saddle alongside with his bow, and a quiver full of specially crafted arrows that would hit their target with magical precision if you knew how to wield them. He checked over all his things and noticed that Sam watched him avidly and appreciatively.

“You know, your real grandfather, John, would have been quite smitten with the idea that his grandson is a hunter.”

Ben’s eyes widened at the casual interjection, and he whipped around to stare at Sam.

“What? My grandfather would have wanted me to join the Hunt!?”

Sam rolled his eyes and threw him a half-smile.

“No, heaven forbid, of course not. I forget so easily that you don’t really know anything about us… there are people like us, not a lot, but always a few. They search for evil and supernatural badasses in all forms and try to do what they can to save people and destroy the things that harm them, even though most folk think they’re legend. We call ourselves hunters, and it’s our family business if you will. Has been for a long time.”

Ben let his arms sink and looked at Sam for a minute, while he worked through what he’d just been told. He hadn’t exactly been told a lot of the background on what happened when he met Sam and Dean for the first time, but in hindsight, he should have known that you don’t just happen to know how to gank a monstrous fairy godmother just because. It made him want to laugh at the irony that, all this time he’d wanted to be nearer to his dad by going back to his normal life and maybe convince his mother to tell the truth, but he'd never once thought that getting taken by the Sidhe to be raised at the Fey Court would do the trick.

Sam must have seen something of the things that played on his face for he nodded, told him that he would answer everything Ben wanted to ask about soon and clapped him on the shoulder for reassurance. That was when the tall man noticed that Ben was still wearing his armour.

“Oh hell, we’re going to have to get you something to wear, I mean, that’s got to be uncomfortable.”

Ben wanted to say – not really, he’d spent a good deal of the last seven years in mail and vambraces, and it was not that much of a bother. But then it suddenly hit him that he wanted to take back a little shred of normalcy just for himself, just for a few hours, which was why he agreed. Sam rummaged through their duffels for something suitable to give to Ben, but while he wasn’t a scrawny seventeen-year-old, he wasn’t exactly up to par with the enormous frames that were Sam and Dean. Finally Sam found him one of Dean’s ridiculously old, washed-out, favourite Metallica shirts that he only ever wore for comfort after a hunt – which was probably the sole reason it was still in existence at all, and a pair of pants that made a decent fit once they were rolled up a little over the belt. He felt ridiculous and young in a way he hadn’t for a long, long time, and it was marvellous.

 

When they came back down into the kitchen, Dean and Bobby were already there, apparently throwing a meal together. When they noticed Ben and Sam standing in the doorway they turned, and Bobby wheeled over to give him a proper introduction this time.

“Hi, I’m Ben.”

“So I’ve heard. You look quite like your father, boy, let’s just hope you’re not quite as big of an idjit as him, right?”

The jab was delivered with a lot of snark, but also an incredible fondness that tugged at Ben’s insides and made a lump appear in his throat - a lump that kept him from answering anything else but “Mhhmhm.”

Dean shot Bobby a reproachful look from the stove, but Sam only chuckled and busied himself laying the table. Ben tried to help, but between the well attuned and familiar movement of the three men, he felt clumsy and awkward in the small space, so he kept out of their way after some half-hearted attempts to find out where everything was. The meal was a silent affair with everyone at the table savouring the simple food, and when they were done putting the dishes away Ben followed the three into the living room and marvelled. It had the same half abandoned, half lived-in feel as the rest of the house, but in addition there were books. Lots and lots of them, towering precariously in foot-high stacks directly from the floor, or wobbling on a big, heavy mahogany desk that looked terribly out of place with the rest of the room. Ben could see that they were all musty old tomes, most fairly simple, others largely decorated, and all in all they looked worth a fortune put together.

The three men moved about the stacks with efficient familiarity, too, and Ben knew that they’d all spent a lot of time together like this. They apparently all had their favourite spots for reading, though Dean looked like he’d rather not do it at all, while Sam burrowed himself in a stack so fast and natural that it seemed as if he had been doing nothing else all his life. Only the way he moved, with sinuous grace and precision, belied the fact that he definitely hadn’t. Ben could see the muscles playing under his layers of shirts, and he could see that Sam's stance spoke of fighting experience of the hands on kind. Yet he looked totally happy among all the dusty paper and parchment surrounding him. When Ben looked up again, he noticed that Bobby was beckoning him with one finger from behind the desk, and he walked over to the older man.

 

“Tell me about this Wild Hunt of yours.”

Ben nodded curtly and launched into a tale of the Fey court, and how his life had gone in the last seven years. He made sure to pay proper attention to detail, especially concerning the fey customs and laws as far as he knew them. Bobby made affirmative noises whenever he recognized something and surprised grunts whenever he hadn’t previously heard of something. The older man started rifling through the book stacks and accumulated a good pile of tomes, some heavier and some lighter, dumping them all on the surface of the desk while Ben was talking. Ben couldn’t tell for sure about Sam, but he got the impression that Dean was paying a lot more attention to his words than to the page in front of him. When he was finished with the tale, the sun had already risen high in the sky, and his eyes were starting to droop due to the excitement, not to mention the journey through the night. Dean finally got up and ushered him out, up the stairs, into a room with two beds and made him lie down to sleep. Ben wanted to protest, but Dean pushed his shoulder down, so that he had to lie flat on the mattress and ruffled his hair, which earned him a swat of Ben’s hand. Nevertheless he was out like a light, once he had turned around to pound the pillow into submission, and didn’t even notice Dean leave the room.

Dean walked down the stairs, carefully avoiding the creaks, and ambled back into the living room to find Bobby and Sam in an animated discussion about fairy lore, and their current situation.

“So, what have we got?”

The two sitting men turned around to face him, and Sam answered, summing up what they’d ascertained so far.

“Basically, what we know about the Wild Hunt in general is true. They ride out on the stormiest nights of the year, picking up unfortunate souls who are out past their time. It helps if you’re close to death, but the riders will be happy to help you along on that one, although everyone is given the choice to die or join the ride, regardless of who they are. Most of the riders nowadays are human – or at least they were – but once you die and join, you change through time and take on traits of the Sidhe, until you’re turned completely. It’s apparently something about exposure to the Fey magic, since a Hunt will spend almost their entire time in what Ben called the Netherworld, where they do much the same things a medieval court was wont to do – hunting for sport and feasting that is – only it doesn’t affect our reality that much.”

Bobby pitched in, taking over from Sam.

“What is new would be the fact that there are a lot more Hunts than just one. Apparently every higher-up worth their dime leads one of his or her own if they can manage to get the approval of the King or the Queen and come up with a sufficient entourage. They all focus on a different kind of straggler, some do soldiers, others wanderers, and yet another takes sailors for example – hence the legends of ghost ships and such. The strongest ones are of course the Hunts of the Erlking himself, which is the most famous one, and the Queen, whom Ben has named Freya Huld, and that is the most worrying part. Her speciality is lost children, whom she picks up and raises to be warriors, before they join the Hunt officially in a ceremony that I obviously need not describe as to what it entails. Her name is composed of two aspects of a female goddess, found in the canons of the Norse and Germanic gods. Freya is known as a goddess of fertility and growth as well as a very high ranking noble, while Huld is a deviation of Frouwe Hulda the weather maker.”

Sam rifled through a book in his lap and showed Dean a crude woodcut of a regal and powerful looking woman.

“If we assume that this Sidhe Queen is behind both of those manifestations of a goddess – and they’re both assumed to be quite powerful in their own right – we have an adversary here that has more boom in her little finger than she’d ever need to flatten a small town.”

Dean rubbed his brow tiredly and wondered whether the Winchester family would ever manage to piss off an entity that was NOT able to screw with the entire universe as they pleased.

“Ok, what’s the good news then?”

“Well, the Sidhe have a few weak points, for example they will never speak anything but the truth, though, when you’ve had centuries of practice in deception and omission, I figure this one won’t help a lot. They’ve got a mortal fear of red fire, whatever that might mean other than what we've already seen before, and there’s the issue with cold iron. The lower order don’t have so much of a problem with it, even though it hurts them considerably, but long term exposure, like shackling, for example, will eventually kill them. The nobler the blood though, the worse the effect. The fey are really tough creatures, but hit one of the royals with a pure iron blade, and they’ll be poisoned to a lethal degree in no time.”

“That’s good isn’t it?”

“Yeah, except that you’re never going to get anywhere even _close_ to the Queen with iron on you. I don’t think we can consider killing her as an option to sever the bond. Never mind that we’d most likely be in the midst of an army of very enraged warriors that would butcher us for harming their leader. No, I think our best shot is trying to lift the pact with a counter. We just have to find it.”

Dean was tempted to remark upon how well that had worked out the last time, but the subject was a bit too touchy to even attempt a try with a ten foot pole, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

 

The following days quickly turned into monotonous and exhausting cycle of research, development of theories, more books acquired and yet more research. Quite frankly all of them were fed up with the crinkling sound of parchment, and the musty smell of old tomes that spewed an irregular amount of dust onto anyone opening or closing them, Ben was reaching a breaking point with lightening speed. Brigid faired well enough, given the circumstances, but that was only due to the fact that he let her run by herself most of the day, for as long as he estimated his strongest masking spells would last. He didn’t dare ride with her though, for the sake of not tempting fate. He had already been quite lucky to find shelter and help in his more or less unplanned great escape, but he wouldn’t jeopardize all that just for a short rush and tumble. He stood outside and watched Brigid nibble discontentedly at the little scraps of dry grass and wondered at his newfound place in the world. He had been sucked into the circle of the Winchester Clan like there was no other possible way, but still he observed the tells and gestures between the brothers that formed a kind of silent communication nobody but the two of them was privy to. He envied this companionship, since he’d had to leave all his friends behind, (who were now as far away from him as if an entire ocean separated them.) and while there were other apprentices at Freya’s court, there had never been an opportunity to develop that kind of close relationship and intimate connection. It didn’t help that, while he remembered a lot of things of modern origin quite clearly, he hadn’t had to make use of them in his daily life for a long time, and it felt occasionally as if he’d stepped into an unreal, artificial world of two-dimensionality, that cut off his breath and made his head spin.  
  
He’d gotten used to doing so many things with magic instead of mechanics, and, because of that, the silence at the dinner table after he’d absentmindedly cleaned his teeth with a touch of his finger was both stunned and awkward beyond measure. Now it was two weeks since he'd arrived, and they still hadn’t gotten any further with their findings, but ‘we can’t kill her, and the bond won’t be unspelled’. Time was running out for him fast, and it put a strain on all of them. Castiel had called a couple of times to get an update, and to admit that he hadn’t found anything useful yet either, and that was that. Ben sighed and stomped back into the room, rifling idly through books and papers, considering whether it would lighten his mood if he punched the wall, when Dean suddenly perked up and shouted out for Sam to come over. They all huddled around Dean, and he pointed down onto a page in the book he was currently flapping through. It showed another woodcut of the goddess Freya, and Dean was pointing at a big gleaming gem around her neck.

“What is that? I’m sure I’ve seen at least two dozen different pictures of her by now, and they all look different. But she’s got something like that in every single one.”

Trust Dean to be able to find anything remotely to do with any of their key words in all the texts they set in front of him, but to be blind to anything else that was written on the pages around the designated passages.

Sam answered with a long-suffering sigh. “Brisingamen, Dean. That’s the name of the necklace, and it’s got to be at least mentioned in two thirds of the stuff you've had in front of you. It’s her most precious token, presumably a gift from the king, and it’s said that she never takes it off.”

Dean beamed at that and went on: “Oh, and it wouldn’t by chance be the magical necklace that contains all her power, and that would break all her deals when we destroy it, would it?”

Ben shook his head and Dean’s face fell.

“It’s not magical, or at least, not as far as I know, but it surely doesn’t harness all of her power. Although it’s true that it’s very, very important to her. It’s bespelled to never even _come_ off should someone try to take it outside of her chambers, or while she’s awake. And you better not even think about destroying it, because I think she would as soon level the world than let you get away with that. She might do it anyway, just out of spite after she’s killed you.”

Dean pouted as another of his possible angles was dashed to pieces, and Ben’s chest seized, because the expression made his face smooth out and, had him looking much younger than he normally did. He had observed a lot about his father and uncle in the last few weeks, and the most prominent feature they shared was a kind of bone deep wariness that was an undercurrent to everything they did. It seemed lightened in moments like this, even if it was just for a couple of precious seconds. Ben know it was due to what had been going on in their lives long before he had barged into them, but while they had told him a lot of stories, he knew that they were keeping the worst to themselves. Looking at the brothers while they were futilely trying to work out how to help him, made his frustration surge again, and he stomped his foot like a child in a temper tantrum, unable to quell the urge.

“This is fricking useless. We’re never going to find something in time. We can’t kill her, that’s for sure, and there’s no other way to break this bond, but for her to release me out of the service herself. And we can’t just bloody well _ask_ her.”

Sam, Dean and Bobby looked a little stumped by the outburst, but not overly surprised. It seemed like they had anticipated such a rant for some time. The real surprise happened a moment later, when Dean suddenly brightened again and said:

“Well… actually…”


	6. Chapter 6

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/mangacat201/pic/000134qx/)

“Dean, this is a stupid plan.”

“…”

“It’s a really, really stupid plan.”

“…”

“You can’t honestly consider traipsing into a court of the Sidhe, weaselling your way into the bed of a Queen, steal her most prized possession and blackmailing her into freeing your son from his bond. And thinking she'll let you walk away afterwards.”

“…”

Ben and Bobby kept looking from one brother to the other, like they were watching a tennis match, Sam spewing profanities down from Brigid’s back where he was perched precariously, to Dean, who stood, held the horse and answered by raising his eyebrow just so. Ben had had a mind to intercept them about half a dozen times already, mainly because they made Brigid nervous, but after a couple of futile tries, he had given up together and now just threw longsuffering looks at Bobby, who shrugged his shoulders in a way that would mean anything from ‘Idjits’ to ‘damn stubborn Winchesters’. After another two weeks of the constant bickering that had followed Dean’s suggestion, they both had agreed to keep out of the process that was the brothers learning to ride and hunt from horseback as much as possible and let them deal with it between themselves.  
  
Unsurprisingly, Dean had taken to hunting with a bow and swordcraft like a duck to water, even though he'd had little time to adjust to idea of moving with a horse as a partner and was finding it hard. Sam on the other hand – once instructed with the basics – had ridden like he was fused to the horse’s back right from the very beginning. It was the bow-hunting that posed a bit of a problem. All in all Sam was a mediocre shot at best – good only if the target decided not to move anywhere fast as hunted animals were wont to do. All told, Ben was rather fascinated, as the brothers seemed to represent each other’s strengths and weaknesses like two sides of a coin. At the same time though, they behaved like poles apart, each one on the other side of a very large scale. He looked over at Bobby again and nearly had a heart attack when he found they were no longer alone, and that Castiel had materialized out of thin air, right next to the man in the wheelchair. Bobby glanced up from the corner of his eye, seeming completely unfazed, but he chuckled at Ben’s involuntary reaction.

“How long have they been at it now?”

“’bout an hour, give or take. You know Sam, boy’s got more stamina than is good for him if he’s arguing a point. At least they haven’t broken into a hands-on squabble this time… yet.”

The angel nodded with his serious, indifferent expression undisturbed – except that anyone watching him more closely would see the edges of a smile tugging faintly at his mouth.

“I think I have found something useful.”

He hadn’t said it with a voice any louder than before, but suddenly the words rang through a vast silence, and both Winchester brothers swivelled around to zero in on Cas immediately.

“What?”

“It’s a spell tying you to this reality in a way that leaves you unaffected by most of the capricious conditions of the Netherworld. It will not let food or drink from the Fey cloud your judgement, or let you forget where you come from, and what you want to do. It also causes time to pass in the measure of this reality. That means you will be not unfortunate enough to step back out of the Netherworld and find that years might have passed.”

Everyone around piped up their opinion about such a nifty spell, and Dean of course asked why they hadn’t found anything thing like that before.

“Well, as it stands, you need power of angelic descent to make it work, and last time I checked neither of you were too keen to have that. But there’s one extra that will be the core part of the spell. As the caster, the tie leads to me, and, if you concentrate on me very strongly, I will be able to find you in the Netherworld. Just be aware that it’ll only work once, since THAT is definitely going to draw a lot of attention.”

“Ok, so we’re spell-proofed and you’ll be our get-away? I think that’s best news we’ve had so far.”

Sam, beside him, scowled but then proceeded to grill Cas for the details of the spell, and everyone let out a small sigh of relief at the fact that Sam was apparently coming to terms with their ramshackle – what’s new – but, for the lack of alternatives, only plan.

 

They all spent the night in relative solitude in different corners of the place, preparing themselves for the feat they were about to attempt, none of them really interested in sleep. Dean was out tinkering with the engine of the Impala, getting her ready to spend some time tarped and protected in Bobby’s garage, constantly whispering apologies about how he was always going to prefer steel over fur, but that she couldn’t come with them on this journey. Sam was poring over the books once again, though he didn’t read much of what was actually on the pages or in his notes, eyes staring sightlessly in the obvious trance of deep thought.  
  
Ben was outside, tending to Brigid, touching up her saddle and bridle with adornments worthy of a triumphant return. If he was to come back to the court after leaving without ever having explained his absence, there would have to be something to justify his welcome, and he'd have to sell it, for the Queen to believe. And she was dangerous, old, and wise and would see through any charade that wasn’t set up perfectly in a heartbeat. Castiel sat out in the courtyard among the skeleton cars and meditated to gather his power for the ritual he was to perform in the morning, right before they left. Bobby had retired to his room under the pretence of going to sleep, but instead he sat at the window and observed the yard through the age-worn curtains, preparing to watch and wait.

When the first rays of the sun peeked over the car towers, piercing the desert light and welcoming the new day, all movement around the house ceased for a moment. Then Dean stepped out of the garage, looking from Sam, who had appeared on the porch, to Ben who stood there in full armor gleaming in the first light.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

 

Dean had to stand still for long moments to wait for his knees to stop shaking. He’d had his fair share of inter-dimensional travel to all corners of the universe, but that didn’t mean his body reacted better now than years ago, the first time Cas had zapped him away through the time-space continuum. And the Fey magic Ben had used to rip open a portal again to grant them access to the Netherworld was a lot different from Angelic Airways, that was for sure. They stood in a place that looked very much like the patch of desert they had started out with, but at the same time, pretty much not. The world around them seemed to be in constant flux. Whenever you focused your eye on something directly it would stay the way your eye might think it was supposed to look, but everything viewed from the corner of the eyes was very much blurred and changing shape in seconds flat.  
  
Ben had warned them about it, and that it was really disconcerting for the first couple of hours, until the brain decided to block out the issue and fabricate static natural environments instead that weren’t as maddening to human perception. Sam had nodded with a knowledgeable air, Dean had heard a lot of big words and drew the conclusion that it would not impair his fighting abilities after some adjustment, and that he didn’t need to think about it any more. Sam, beside him, leant against a boulder that stood where they had landed and was catching his breath with big gulps. Ben sat in the saddle, completely unfazed, and had shielded his eyes with his hand to gaze into the wilderness around them. When Sam had caught his breath, he asked the most pressing question: “And how do we find the Queen?”

Ben just turned to them, looking down from horseback before shaking his head with a grim smile.

“We won’t find her.” Once he'd got the words out, the baying of hounds could be heard over the hills, making Dean flinch, and Sam whip around, wide-eyed, “She will find us.”

The sound of bells got added into the mix, and the light suddenly changed to illuminate a figure that emerged on the closest hilltop, wind whipping up around her, and the earth split open around her feet with thunderous cracks, until water poured out in crystal clear rivulets. Ben sighed deeply while he took Brigid’s reins and muttered about dramatic entrances under his breath, before he instructed Sam and Dean to:

“… for the love of all that is holy, stay back and be still whatever happens.”

Ben spurred Brigid on to walk up the hill and braced himself for anything from a big tantrum to sudden death. About two thirds up the hill he stopped the horse and dismounted, making the rest of the way on foot, trepidation rising with every step. Soon he had to pick his way carefully to avoid breaking his legs and rolling back down the hill. When he reached the crest of the hillside, he came to stand next to the Queen, carefully not looking at her and training his eyes onto the ground beside her instead, where the camp was quite literally growing out of the ground. The hunters would arrive soon, following their Queen through the Netherworld at a more sedate pace, and he didn’t want to be comforted by the prospect of familiarity that would come with the Fey court bustling to life in front of him. Still, he couldn’t speak to her without her addressing him first, so he had to wait and observe the Sidhe grove grow and prosper until in a matter of minutes it had become a full-grown forest.

“You have been away without leave for a long time, son.”

Ben just inclined his head and quietly answered: “Yes, my Lady.”

“You ripped a hole in the fabric of two realities and passed through without permission.”

Her tone had an almost imperceptible edge to it, and Ben dared to turn a fraction of an inch to look at her out of the corner of his eye. He had to look down a little, and he knew she’d been irritated ever since he had grown tall enough to do that, but also proud. Now though, the lines on her face were drawn ever so slightly, and he was one of the few that would recognize worry in it.

“Yes, my Lady.”

Without warning she whirled around and slapped him upside the head, fast as lightning. Ben flinched, more from the unexpectedness of the action than the pain, but he looked at her wide-eyed, when the Queen stabbed him in the chest with a very enraged, very pointy finger.

“Don’t you ever, EVER do something _that_ stupid again, do you understand me, child?”

Ben was thoroughly taken aback when she reached up and enclosed his jaw in her slender fingers and drew him down to her.

“You’ve never let me ride with the Hunt through the storms. I was just trying to prove myself worthy.”

“Oh, dear little one, you don’t even know your own strength, do you? What am I going to do with you?”

Ben kept his breath slow and steady, even though his heart beat like a fluttering bird in his chest. He wasn’t really sure what was going on for better or worse, but before he could get his bearings, she let go abruptly and clapped her hands, a playful smile lighting up her eyes in sudden delight. The change of mood was jarring, but certainly not unfamiliar. Freya Huld was known best for her flighty temper, and when she exclaimed: “But you came back and you brought me _presents_!” Ben wasn’t really all that surprised. The Queen turned around swiftly and bounded down the hillside like a reckless young girl – though there was no doubt about her ever being able to trip or fall or do anything else that was undignified – he just sighed, thanked the Gods for small favors and made to follow her, lest his luck ran out once she actually _met_ Dean.

 

Dean wasn’t really clear on what he had expected the fairy queen to look like, but the person that bounded down the hillside in playful hops certainly wasn’t it. Once she was only a dozen steps away, her feet slowed down, and, suddenly, her stance and posture were as regal as possible, elegant and seductive. She looked fully human in shape, inky black hair cascading freely down her back to the hips and framing her oval face. She was an aquiline beauty, not exactly pretty in the traditional sense, but with an underlying attractiveness of maturity and wisdom – and certainly not a small part of it was due to the fact that she certainly knew how to emphasize all of her assets in the very best way. The burgundy dress was more like a series of bands wrapped around her body in an artistic fashion that left a lot of creamy skin out in the open and little to the imagination.  
  
Golden bands spiralled along her bare arms, and little rings with bells hanging from them tinkled around her bare ankles, while her hair was worked through with pearls, and drops of precious gems that reflected the weird, atmospheric light that didn’t seem to have an identifiable source here. And an intricately wrought silver necklace, adorned with one, single, oval ruby rested around her slender neck. It would be easy to forget that she wasn’t human at all and would only play by the rules of humanity as far as it suited her fancy. The only reminder for that was her skin. Whenever hit by light, it lit up glittering reflections, scattering little flecks of light all over the ground around her. The reason for that were swirling lines covering all the visible – and probably also the invisible – skin as if the intricate designs had been inked in with stardust. Dean was sharply elbowed out of his musings by Sam’s whispered “Dean, focus.” and then she was on them and prowling around them like a cat that couldn’t decide whether the mice were prey or play.

 

“You two really are a sight to behold even though you’re dressed in rags, but I don’t see what else would be so special about you. Being handsome is certainly a good trait, but it doesn’t really tell me why my son would think you a good enough compensation to forgive his continued absence.”

Dean barely kept the scowl off his face when he realized that this wasn’t just a beautiful woman, but the creature that was threatening to have his _son_ killed in some sort of twisted ritual, and suddenly his feelings toward her turned less than charming. This moment of truth unfortunately meant that he was too caught up in his own thoughts to answer the Queen. Luckily, Sam had no such qualms and immediately divulged their prepared tale.

“We are hunters, majesty, brothers grown up with the unending awe and adoration your name and deeds inspire. We couldn’t believe our luck at the chance meeting that brought us here before you, to ask for permission to join your court.”

The queen, who was still walking around them in slow circles, while they stayed completely still, raised an inquisitive eyebrow, before she voiced her thoughts.

“Why, Sir Hunter, it is seldom these days that a human comes to us with such an inquiry, but you are rather obviously warriors and therefore belong to the king, so I should give you to him as a sign of goodwill.”

The two brothers didn’t move a muscle while they let her mind work on the matter, and Ben, who had come up behind her, implored them with big eyes to remain that way. The Queen came nearer and let her hand trail over their arms and chests, noting every slight reaction to her touch.

“However, you really are magnificent and I should be loath to lose a pair of men so fine that asked to enter my service willingly. You are lucky, for three days hence, there will be an initiation, and the festivities have just begun. If you prove yourself worthy on the hunt, you will be allowed to join my court. Ben will undoubtedly take care of what you need to know, and please find something less atrocious to dress in. You are to come to the feast tonight.”

With these words she turned around, and before Sam or Dean could blink she was already halfway up the hill throwing mischievous glances over her shoulder before she disappeared from view. Sam, Dean and Ben were left to look at each other, rather dazzled.

“That… went surprisingly well.”

“Oh, believe me, that was the _easy_ part. I’m sure as hell not forgiven for just bailing out on her for almost two months, even though I thought she would do something more… drastic upon my return. We hit a lucky mood I guess, but nonetheless, it’s going to be dangerous. She might find you interesting now, but don’t think she won’t suspect something is up. We'd better get to the camp, before the feast starts.”

 

When they scrambled over the ridge of the hill, the grove was fully grown, and the bustling of preparation had died down by a considerable degree. Ben led them down and into the copse of trees confidently, but Sam and Dean couldn’t stop themselves from gaping a little. They had seen a lot in their time, including some very impressive things, but they’d never seen anything quite like this. The trees were mighty oaks and slender alders, weeping willows and birches, rowans and ash, but they all had one thing in common: at the tips of their branches burned little blue flames, illuminating the whole camp with flickering eerie light. Ben brushed by the burning branches unconcerned, and the fire seemed to neither spread nor blister anyone. Dean tested it out, and it felt cool to the touch, just a whispering movement of air instead of heat. The roots of the bigger trees rose out of the ground, forming natural niches and space to set up bedding, some of those were already partitioned by flimsy curtains.  
  
Sam and Dean tried to scout the layout of the place, but the best they could do was determine that it had a roughly round shape, focused on a central point. In turn they noticed that the occupants of the place returned their stares somewhat more subtly, but since they’d entered the camp, a low buzz had started to spread, and appeared to await them wherever they were going. Ben got them outfitted with clothes and mail as well as slender bows and hunting knives. Dean felt a lot better once they were armed, but Sam reminded him that they couldn’t under any circumstance whatsoever start a fight with anyone, and was that clear? It made his big brother roll his eyes at him, and Ben looked at them both warily. The other people in the camp, mixed, but mostly men – well, at least they mostly looked like they were on the brink of becoming men - although the brothers knew that image to be treacherous – kept their distance and didn’t interact with them. When Ben had found them a place to sleep, with blankets strewn comfortably between some mighty roots, they agreed to get a couple of hours rest before the feast, since the next couple of days were bound to become somewhat taxing.

 

Sam was up before Dean and talking to Ben in low tones when the older man finally came to. His brother was bent over some tree root with the total attention he would normally only give an ancient tome, and Dean wondered just what the heck Sam had found now that had him so excited about a piece of bark. It turned out that Sam's focus wasn’t just on a piece of bark, indeed, but that the whole tree was covered in sigils and hieroglyphs that looked _grown_ rather then carved in, and Ben was able to supply the information that the whole history of the Fey people, and their knowledge, was recorded in these trees. Freya Huld had a penchant for studying as well as hunting – which was why all her hunters got a good solid education in the arts and crafts as well – and she apparently dragged her whole library around with her, stencilled on the fricking TREES. Sam was all over that, of course, and he headed all the way to the centre of the grove, stopping and inquiring about various patches, Dean didn’t even ask how Sam could actually read what was written, since once his little brother went all geek, there was no stopping him.  
  
Dean preferred to spend the little time they had reacquainting himself with the weight of the mail and the balance of his new weapons. When Dean had asked what kind of metal they were made of, since the Fey couldn’t stand iron and it didn’t look like silver or copper either, Ben answered that it was molten moonlight, formed in the smithies of the Sidhe and impenetrable to just about anything that wasn’t exceptionally powerful Fey magic. Dean wondered if they could keep it, if it was that handy, and Ben only rolled his eyes at the nerve, but didn’t have a chance to answer, for they had arrived at the centre of the grove, where the queen and her court were already engaged in the festivities for the occasion. The central clearing was littered with big, icy blue bonfires that lit everything in a gloomy cold way. The court members were scattered all around them on benches and cushions and they were chattering and eating merrily. The sudden and subsequent whispering that spread out upon their arrival showed that they were the worst kept secret in camp, and the when the Queen turned round from her perch in the very centre to beckon them to her side, a lot of the whispers turned furious. Ben didn’t let himself be deterred though and marched on confidently, until they could find seats in Freya’s inner circle. The queen regarded their new get-up with obvious appreciation and then straightened to address the people in the clearing in a voice that didn’t get any louder, but suddenly carried to the far corners of the camp.

“My dear friends and companions, I have great news for you tonight. At the eve of the great feast, two human men came into our midst to beg I take them into my service. Strong fighters and able hunters who will prove themselves worthy tomorrow. They will join our ranks to make the Hunt as strong as can be and revel in the glory of their queen. We welcome them among us and bid them to enjoy themselves. Tonight we feast, but tomorrow we will Hunt.”

Her last words caused the crowd to break out in great cheer, people standing proud and hollering their approval. The queen tugged Ben down sit to her right and grabbed Dean’s arm, before he could seat himself any further away than was to her liking. Her smoldering gaze stirred something in the back of his mind, and he sat down willingly, albeit warily, to prepare for a long night at the fires of the Wild Hunt.


	7. Chapter 7

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/mangacat201/pic/000107ez/)

 

The stag broke through the underbrush, just inches away from the snapping jaws of the hounds, and fled wide-eyed from the terrible crowd that was hot on his heels. The fastest and most experienced hunters of the court were hot on his heels. Them, and Dean, of course. Dean rode his fey horse like it was fused to his body, and he had never done anything else. Sam would have been just a little bit jealous, but this time he was more than glad that his brother was able to pick up new, important skills at the drop of a hat when needed, especially if they had to do with any kind of weaponry. Still, when Dean had risen early that morning after very little sleep, and with feverishly glazed eyes, every muscle in his body laced with determination, Sam suspected that he wasn’t riding with the hunt in that way purely by his own ability. He and Ben did their best to keep up with the party still led by the queen and tried to stay on the up and up with what was happening. Sam marvelled at the impressive mass of moving horses, clanking mail and harsh breaths, the scent of sweat and hunger in the air all around them. The thunder of the galloping hooves was deafening, and he was sure that they’d made any wild life in the vicinity flee in boundless terror while the hunters closed in on their prey. Dean felt sweat burn in his eyes, but he kept them on the prize, being one of the handful of riders that was closest to their chosen prey.  
  
His gaze only strayed occasionally for mere seconds to the magnificent sight that was the Queen of the Sidhe on her horse, clad in pants, and a loose shirt that allowed her unrestricted movement, laughing in delight at the sheer velocity and danger of the hunt. His blood burned with the excitement, everything else was muted, just the sounds of the majestic animal that was more teasing them than fleeing in fright stayed sharp in his mind. They’d lost sight of the stag again about a minute ago, but the hounds were still hot on the trail and raced after their mark. Some of the more experienced senior hunters had sneered at him when he had first mounted the horse, clearly incredulous that a mere human had set out to outclass them, but now that they witnessed him keeping up with the fastest of them, they were clearly more stumped than indignant. Dean paid no attention to them any more when a feeling drew him away from the crowd, pulling him to the left when the hounds were going right. A few shouts accompanied him as he left the field to barge into the underbrush, but they ceased fast and suddenly Dean was on his own in the untouched forest. He slowed down his horse, stirring it with his legs alone, while he freed the bow and lined up an arrow in slow, deliberate movements. The sounds of the other hunters seemed to cease completely, and the woods lay silent before him. The ground inclined upwards in a slight slope where the undergrowth got lighter. Dean tensed and stopped the horse when he heard a small noise, and the rustle of foliage revealed a prize stag, not the one the hunt had been after, but even bigger and more elegant. Unthinking, Dean drew back his arm slowly, but surely, the arrow quivering only slightly beside his eye from the tension in his muscles.  
  
The stag was maybe thirty paces away and seemingly hadn’t yet noticed him. Dean closed his eyes, breathed deeply, prayed that the animal wouldn’t move, let out his breath and opened his eyes. The stag was looking at him directly with piercing eyes, but didn’t move an inch, and opening his fingers to let the arrow fly was just an afterthought. There was a rush of air, a dull thud, and then the stag blinked for a second, before his legs folded underneath him, and he tumbled to the ground in a heap. Dean felt blood rush in his ears as the sheer impossibility of his deed sank into his mind, and he lowered his bow incredulously. Then the frenzy of a successful kill washed over him, and he all but fell from his horse’s back to scramble up the hillside to where the stag lay trembling, heaving shallow, rapid breaths, hooves twitching lightly. He knelt by the mighty animal’s side and touched the matted fur reverently, before he drew his knife and quickly slit the stag’s throat. Blood ran hot and wet over his fingers, and his head swam with all the feelings of accomplishment, disbelief, sadness and triumph rushing in all at once.

 

“Why, Sir Hunter, it seems you have caught your prize.”

Dean’s head jerked up at the unexpected words, since he had still presumed himself to be alone. Just a few feet away stood the queen, regal now in a simple white tunic that fell to just above her knees, and which was belted with a simple strip of leather at the waist. Hair falling freely down her back once again, though she was completely unadorned with any jewels save the slender silver necklace with the impressive ruby in the middle that rested on her breast.

“I knew the king of the forest might sacrifice himself for you, but didn’t dare hope that you would know to accept the gift with such honor and grace. You’ve proven yourself beyond worthy.”

Dean looked at her through the haze that lay over his vision, and, suddenly, everything that would happen next – had happened time and time again – fell into place. He stood slowly, not of his own volition, but edged on by the heat that raced through his veins, blood dripping from his hands onto the forest floor as an offering and stalked towards the woman, an offering of another kind. She met his burning eyes with a confidant stance, relaxed and waiting for him to reach up, to grab her shoulders possessively. His hands left wet trails on her fine skin, painted the white fabric scarlet under his touch, marking the change, marking her as his while he backed her into the nearest tree to plunder her mouth like the prize he was meant to receive. She let it happen, yielding to his onslaught, and when he finally let go of her mouth to occupy himself otherwise, pearly laughter fell from her lips like dew drops in spring. She whispered: “Yes, yes, I give myself to you, Chosen, master for one night and one day, to bless the new year with our union.”

It was the answer to an unasked question that had been repeated again and again for aeons. She took his impatient hands and tugged him along a short way, into the rocky part of the forest, where a small pathway stretched into the mouth of a cave, just big enough to hold them both. He wasn’t thinking clearly anymore, there was nothing to perceive beyond the desire that flared inside him, yearning to be fulfilled. He tumbled them down onto the soft mossy ground and proceeded to take his prize.

 

Dean woke up abruptly and disoriented, unfamiliar surroundings setting his teeth on edge instantly, until he recalled the last night’s events and felt partly mortified by his lack of control and partly awed at the sheer dumb luck he suddenly seems to have. He assessed his position without opening his eyes, noting the hand on his chest and the weight on his shoulder, warm breath ghosting over the patch of his skin that was marked with black ink. He started thinking about the best ways to inconspicuously extract himself without waking up the peacefully sleeping fey woman at his side. All in all, it didn’t pose that much of a challenge,, because if his life had taught him one thing, it was how to slip away stealthily the morning after. This time, however, besides the burning question of what exactly he did or didn’t do last night, he had a mission. Bending his arm up over the sleeping form was easy enough, but her rich locks of charcoal hair were a real hindrance on his way to the back of her neck. He tried carding his fingers through the dark locks in a caressing fashion and when that didn’t rouse her, Dean slowly snaked his fingers inside them, until he could feel creamy skin and the strange feeling of cold metal that should have been warm to the touch. His questing fingers found the latch by rubbing carefully along the thin band of metal. Once he had found it, Dean stayed utterly still for a second and then breathed out the one word that Ben had taught them for this very occasion. It would also open a lot of doors for them from now on, but that was irrelevant at the moment.  
  
The most important thing was the small click as the latch opened under his touch, and the necklace slid clean from her neck onto his collarbone, weighed down by the precious gem worked into the centre. He waited for her to wake and scream bloody murder, but to his utter astonishment, she did neither. Slowly, he reached up with his free hand to take the necklace away from his shoulder, and when his fist was closed firmly around it, he wound his way out from underneath her. After he’d lain her head down on the cushioned floor to free his arm, and prayed that his knees wouldn’t pop upon standing up, the way they were wont to do more often than not lately, he stood shakily, heart racing from all the adrenaline in his blood, and the sheer nerve of stealing the most valuable possession of the Sidhe Queen right from under her nose. Dean picked up his pants and shirt and decided to dress outside, where his horse was waiting patiently. It gave him a reproachful look, presumably for being left outside untended all night, waiting for its temporary master to come out of hiding. He threw on his clothes and mounted the horse. It trotted off instantly, apparently knowing the way.

 

Sam and Ben had been two of the first in the party that had discovered the stag on the ground, after the hounds had turned and gone berserk with the scent of blood in the air. Exasperated whispers had broken out all over the place when they realized what had happened, and just who was missing from the hunting party. Ben and his uncle exchanged a meaningful look and stayed deliberately silent, while the oldest and most experienced members of the Hunt hashed out what to do next. They decided to find a suitable place to set up a temporary camp for the night, and, soon after, an adequate spot was chosen, everyone was busy, so that Ben and Sam could slip away unnoticed.

They walked away, far enough away that the sounds of the bustling camp grew faint in the dusk.

“Do you think he managed it?”

Sam offered a mirthless grin in response.

“If anyone would, it’s him. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

When the words left Sam’s mouth, Ben gasped, and his hand flew up to the mark over his heart.

“What is it?”

“I… uh… I don’t… oh… OH.”

Ben blushed furiously, and Sam understood that he must be feeling some kind of backlash from the tension of … something that drifted through the air, so thick and piercing that even he could feel it prickling on his skin, now that it had been brought to his attention. Sam nodded and turned back to the camp.

“If he’s come that far, he will make it. We’ll have to be up and prepared.”

And they were. When Dean approached the camp with his cantering horse, Sam and Ben were both up already, and with all their possessions accounted for (though there wasn’t much.) to hightail it out of the Netherworld at a moments notice. Dean dismounted right in front of them after they’d gone to meet him just outside the camp, noting his dishevelled appearance, clothes haphazardly fastened, blood crusted on his hands and spotting his shirt. His eyes were somewhat haunted and closed off, when Sam inquired:

“Did you get it?”

His big brother just looked at him for a moment, but before he could answer, a scream pierced through the dawning light, making the earth quake and bark splinter from the trees all around them.

 

“TRAITOR” “THIEF” “UTTER FOOL, _where are you, SHOW YOUSELF.”_

The voice rang through the woods with apocalyptic rage resonating through it. Dean turned around to stand next to Ben on his left, while Sam stayed to the right. Between the trees a figure emerged that had nothing of a merely beautiful woman and everything of a terribly powerful goddess. Her hair whipped around her like a black halo, floating on intangible winds, and the designs all over her skin blazed like fiery bright lines as her fury was unleashed. Her dress was pitch-black as well, emphasizing her pallor, and the stormy darkness of her eyes. The queen stood before them like the epitome of an avenging angel, her power quivering, barely restrained and furious. Her voice sounded like gravel ground together, inhuman, and echoing through the whole forest, so that everyone could hear.

“You’ve overstepped your boundaries by far, Sir Hunter. I show you kindness, and trust and honour, and this is how you repay me? With greed and underhandedness, abusing the very privilege I gave you for your own personal gain! Did you really think you would get away with this? I should strike you down where you stand this instant.”

Dean’s gaze turned cold and hard, and he let the necklace dangle from his hand in front of her, drawing shocked gasps from the crowd that had already begun to gather around them .

 

“What? Because of this? Right, just try it, but you know as well as I, that it only takes one word to destroy it forever,” her eyes flashed dangerously at him, but she kept her distance all the same, “And it’s certainly not greed or vanity that drove me to this feat, I assure you. I have no intention of retaining your keepsake forever.”

Dean’s answer seemed to baffle the queen beyond measure, and she slightly lowered her hands that had been outstretched as if to really smite them where they stood.

“I will give it back to you unharmed, but you have something I want, that you need to give me in return.”

Freya Huld looked at him doubtfully and sneered, but she seemed desperate all the same to get Brisingamen back as fast as possible, without much consideration for the consequences.

“And what would you want that I can grant you? Riches? Glory? Fame beyond the Netherworld?”

Dean shook his head at all that and instead let his hand settle heavily on Ben’s shoulder before he spoke.

“I want freedom. Free _my_ son from his bond of servitude to you and your Hunt; grant safe passage for the three of us from here to the outside of the Netherworld and never bother me or mine again. Then I’ll give back your heart’s desire.”

The Sidhe queen looked genuinely shocked at the revelation, eyes widening at Ben as she silently inquired after the truth of Dean’s statement. Ben would only meet her eyes for the shortest time, but apparently she saw all she needed to know. The clearing was frozen in a moment of dreadful silence, while the facts sank in. Then the moment broke and the queen drew herself up, blankness washing over her features.

“So be it, you have proven yourself worthy in fight as well as in bargain. I shall grant your request and let you leave my sight protected from the first step you take away from here until you leave my realm once and for all. But beware of my wrath on the day I see you – any of you – ever again. That I promise solemnly in front of all my court… now you keep your end of the bargain, or your life will be forfeit.”

She brought two fingers to her lips and kissed them quickly, which caused Ben to hiss and stumble a little as the seal of her kiss was burned away from his skin to leave no trace.

Dean turned over her words in his head and exchanged a quick look with Sam. He tightened his hand around the necklace just slightly, which turned her expression stormy and murderous, but then he nodded and threw the jewel at her with a smooth arch of his hand. She caught it with her power in midair and let it gently float down to settle around her neck where it belonged. Dean wondered whether he had given up their only bargaining chip too fast, when she glared at him as if it would burn a hole into his skull, but she had conceded too readily for him to hold it back any longer, and he really had no interest in keeping it. It made him wary though, since the matter had been settled entirely too easily. But she had freed Ben and promised to let them go unharmed, so there was the gift horse and all that. Still, before they left, he felt the urge to explain himself.

“You were about to take away what’s mine, my family. You left me with little choice.”

She regarded him with cold, hard eyes, face haughty with buried resentment before answering.

“And you should know not to play with the Fey. We have played this game for far longer than you flimsy humans, and anyone who crosses us will regret it. That is why you leave me with little choice, Sir Hunter, I _will_ have my prize.”

 

There was a rush of air, and a dull thud. Ben blinked down at the arrowhead protruding from the centre of his chest for a few seconds, before his legs folded beneath him. Dean felt his blood turn to ice as he watched the boy at his side crumple to the ground, catching him more due to an instinctive reflex than conscious thought. He heard someone roar through the blood rushing in his ears, and wondered who was screaming so horribly, until he realized that the sound fell from his own lips. Terrible rage and agony ripped through him. He tried to support Ben’s heaving shoulders with one hand and staunch the rapidly flowing blood with his other. It was no avail since the precious source of life was running out of Ben almost unchecked, and frothy, red-tinted bubbles already gathered at the edge of his mouth after half a dozen shallow breaths.

“What did you DO? You promised us save passage!”

“I did, from the first step you took away from here to your exit of my realm. So long as you didn’t take that step, you were in my power to do as I saw fit. I have not broken my promise to you, but I offer you a different choice. The boy will die shortly, and if he does, he will be gone forever. However, I will let him join the Hunt if he accepts, and he will live on amongst us in his rightful place until the end of time. You may go and never set foot into my realm again. What do you say of this new bargain?”

Dean wanted to scream ‘NO’ as it meant that he never was to see his son again, nor could he bear to think what the news would do to Lisa, but an intense look from Sam pinned him to the spot and kept him silent. Sam turned back to the queen, completely unfazed - on the outside at least.

 

Sam had hoped it would not come to this, because the game he was about to play was even more dangerous, and he was not entirely sure if it _could_ work at all, but they were out of options, and he tried to get his wits about him, not thinking about how Ben was lying on the ground next to him, fighting for his life. He concentrated on his words instead, for they would be very indicative of what came next. His voice suddenly carried in much the same way that Freya’s had, though he was not really clear how he'd done that.

“He will join the Hunt, but it will not be yours.”

The queen looked taken aback at his words, and met his eyes with an incredulous expression.

“Come again?”

“You chose my brother, you gave him the ruler of the forest, and after that you gave him the virgin sacrifice. According to the ancient rites, that makes him the Summer King, does it not?”

Every pair of eyes in the clearing now rested solely on him, including Dean’s penetrating stare of pure astonishment, but Sam resolutely held the eyes of the queen, until he saw realization dawn on her face. Pure unadulterated rage slipped over her features, before she could rein it in, and he knew at once that he had her trapped.

“You _cannot_ seriously think I would consent to giving leadership of a Wild Hunt to a _mere human. I will not accept such a flimsy creature as my liege!_ ”

Her voice reached a terrible crescendo at the end of the sentence, but he didn’t blink.

“It’s your law to uphold. The Summer King is to be granted a Hunt, should he ask for it, but if you want to break your own rules in front of the court, that is your own choice, my Lady.”

She stared at him with terrible disdain marring her features, but if she now refused to uphold the laws of the Sidhe herself, she would lose face in front of her entire court. Seconds ticked by slowly and excruciatingly, but she was not yet done. The queen looked at Dean before she spoke: “If you step up to your place and ask me to grant you a Hunt, you must be prepared to meet all the requirements of the ritual in full. The Summer King is to be sacrificed for the sake of life, to take his rightful place among the Lords of the Hunt. Are you prepared to die for that?”

Dean met her gaze with confidence. He hadn’t known what Sam was trying to accomplish, but now he realized that indeed he was the only human that probably stood a chance of ever gaining the title like this. So he barely managed to keep the smugness out of his voice as he answered her levelly: “Been there, done that, my Lady. I think you’ll find that this particular requirement is met already.”

She glared at him with disbelief in her eyes until her stare seemed to reach down into his soul, his very core laid bare before her, and the answer apparent to her eyes. The queen stumbled back and blanched, white as a sheet. She pointed a finger at him.

“YOU. You…” Wind whipped up around her, ripping at the leaves of the trees and turning into a veritable storm, until it died down as suddenly as it had come. Her hair settled about her shoulders, and her pointed finger turn into an open hand, outstretched with her palm up.

“I grant your request. You may have your Hunt. Now hurry and accept your first charge.”

 

At her words, Dean felt something stir in the back of his mind, and, suddenly, raw wilderness flooded his thoughts. For a dizzying moment he felt the rush of the hunt again, the joy of the kill. Then he was looking down at Ben, whose eyes were all but closed, and whose breaths were shallow, pained and irregular. He felt a string of unfamiliar sounds fall from his lips that turned into words he couldn’t understand, but Ben opened his eyes a fraction, and nodded weakly. Gently, Dean pried the young man’s collar away to bare the skin over his heart and placed a kiss right over the spot, where he could feel the last sluggish beats underneath the clammy skin. Then heat spread out under his touch, and Dean closed his eyes as Ben’s heart stopped.  
  
Desperation gripped him as tight as a vice. He thought for a moment that all their efforts had been too little too late. But then, white light blinded him through his closed lids, and, suddenly, Ben lurched up and out of his grasp, sitting up gasping, breathing, crying and whole. He dragged the fabric away from his chest, and it revealed a round, pink scar in the centre of his chest, and a pentacle framed by a sun circle etched into the skin right under his left collarbone. Dean helped him stand and marvelled at the fact that they’d once again dodged a bullet like… maybe the universe didn’t have it in for them quite so much after all. He looked at Sam, relieved, but he didn’t answer, he just met Dean's eyes and bared his own chest. Dean understood the gesture immediately, but still he was moved by the immensity of trust Sam was placing in him with this pledge, again. He leaned forwards and placed his lips on the black-inked sigil for just a moment, Sam’s skin searing hot under his touch.

“You will have to choose a purpose, a destiny to fulfil by your hunt.”

Dean looked up as the queen spoke, and, for one moment, he saw the woman that had claimed him the night before and marvelled at her beauty and royalty before giving her the easiest answer.

“We will do what we have done all our lives. Hunt all the evil in the world, until we die or there’s nothing left.”

Freya Huld cocked her head and assessed his claim, something flashing in her eyes as if she had found something in him she hadn’t thought to look for before. Then she nodded.

“A noble cause, Sir Hunter. You will need more than two souls to follow you though if you want to master that task.”

Dean nodded, but he couldn’t think of anything to do about that. It turned out that he didn’t have to. The atmosphere in the clearing suddenly shifted, and something portentious thickened the air as it made itself known. Someone was coming - or not one someone, but many. The first to step out of the trees was a black haired man with a scruffy beard, with a blond woman following him closely. John and Mary Winchester looked as unchanged in death as ever, but still their appearance was like a blow to the brothers. They couldn’t react, since they were the first, but not the only ones to emerge. There were the Campbells, and Ellen, Jo and Bill. Victor, Caleb and Pastor Jim Murphy, Ash and Pamela. Steve Wandell and Gordon Walker, Isaac and many more they had once known, people that had lived and died as hunters, their souls following the call of the Fey.

The queen looked at them and then at Dean, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips when she realized what kind of force she’d created.

“You really are something else, aren’t you?”

The man met her eyes head on and then shrugged his shoulders, smirking.

“Well, you know, it’s a family thing.”

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/mangacat201/pic/0000x5a6/)

 

Bobby pottered around ceaselessly in the kitchen, just to have something else to do than stare out of the window like a little old lady wrapped in a mother hen. It had been a long three days, and he was really going to give the boys an earful about suicide missions, and how much of a strain it was to just sit here and do _nothing,_ waitingfor them to return safely. When they returned safely.

A loud thumping noise in the living room startled him, and he wheeled over as fast as he could to investigate it. In the middle of the room stood Castiel, with the notorious Winchesters in tow, all four of them looking whole and healthy in a way that shouldn’t be possible considering the feat they had set out to accomplish. Sam, Dean and Ben were looking at him with bright eyes and huge smiles, much like a bunch of kids bringing home a toad to show their father, in a ‘look, look, what I found’-kind of way.

“You idjit’s better tell me it worked, and nobody died.”

Bobby would live to regret his words.

But then, when was it ever any different, with this kind of family business.

 

LE FIN


End file.
